


Never Goodnight

by Kowbonez (digiplease)



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Archangel's squad, Biotic Shepard (Mass Effect), Biotics (Mass Effect), Bisexual Female Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, F/F, F/M, Flippant descriptions of death and violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, No Shepard Without Vakarian, Past Abuse, Pining, Renegade Shepard (Mass Effect), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vanguard (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23405713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digiplease/pseuds/Kowbonez
Summary: Garrus spent two guilty years coming to terms with Shepard's death -- or so he thought. Now she's back, stronger and stranger than ever. Garrus can't help but want to pick up her missing pieces but some things can't be fixed so easily.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally started on FF.net in 2014. Edited and reposting here, with new chapters to come.

Young mercs scuttled over the barrier and rushed toward Archangel’s base, simultaneously arguing with each other about who would take point. Chuckling, Garrus looked through the scope of his rifle, took aim and fired off a shot. With a satisfying crunch, it entered and exited the head of the mercenary in the lead. His companions froze where they stood as his body fell in a heap in front of them, too scared to take another step. Garrus cleared his throat to help them along and they dashed away in the opposite direction. 

Reloading, he directed his scope down toward the warehouse floor. Dozens of bloody forms were strewn on the ground, a scattered line trailing across the bridge to the barrier the mercs had set up at the end. The bodies of his former companions lay just below him, covered neatly in protective tarp. So far, they hadn't been disturbed. What he wouldn’t give to have just one of them with him now, fending off these impetuous idiots, more so for the company than the help. Loneliness crept into his heart and it was hard to ignore. 

Garrus had already come to terms with the fact that he probably wasn't getting out alive. Good as he was, there were only so many thermal clips and energy drinks to sustain him. His skill did give him time to figure out how he wanted to go out. Feeling a little like a tool for it, he recorded a short message explaining who he was and why he fought this hard. Upon his death, his omnitool would send it to select comm units in the area. 

To bring back a sense of humility, he had also called his father. Over a year since they last spoke and the joyful relief in Castis’ voice tugged painfully at the back of Garrus’ mind. As the day went on Garrus regretted how short their conversation had been. 

He waited for a while longer, keeping his gun at the ready, but it seemed they needed more time to regroup. For the past few hours, the merc groups were sending inexperienced gunmen after him as bullet fodder. This probably meant they were working on a plan and were holding on to their more experienced members for the final push. 

Allowing himself a moment to relax, Garrus dropped down from the cargo he was squatting on and sat back against the ledge. The joints in his legs seized a little as he extended them to the floor. He downed the last energy drink and tossed it in the small heap forming next to the garbage can. They were poor substitute for stims, but the once bountiful supply had long since run out. If the mercs didn’t kill him, he feared exhaustion might. 

He was in the bunk area where everyone in the crew slept. It was a mess, for the most part. They were an organized bunch when it came to raiding merc parties, but no one could get a handle on keeping the base tidy. Monteague and Ripper were the youngest in the group and tended to assume others would clean up for them. Of course, no one did. It sparked a few arguments, but no solution ever came of them. 

The smell of their last dinner lingered here; a levo Earth meat called chicken with veggies for those who could partake and a devo sweet and spicy stew. Ripper wasn't the best cook but she did pretty well with the rations they got. He could almost visualize her now, approaching him apprehensively with a warm plate. Had she always been so shy around him? The quarian was pretty talkative, but froze up whenever Garrus entered the room. Weaver suggested she was just afraid of turians, but she was pretty comfortable with Sidonis…. 

He gripped his gun to help steady his anger. Wherever the hell he was, the other turian was probably desperately hoping Garrus wasn't going to make it through this firefight. He almost wanted to promise himself that he wouldn't die to these idiots just to get a chance to tear the rat apart. If the mercs didn't kill him, Sidonis was going to be Garrus' next pet project. 

He heard shouting from below. A larger group was coming from across the bridge. Garrus pushed himself from off the floor, keeping his head low, and looked through the rifle's scope. He was fully expecting to see another amateur squad approaching and was ready to pick them off pretty simply. 

Suddenly, a large cannister came flying over the barrier and exploded, tossing freelancers and their detached body parts into the air. Garrus had to duck to avoid the shrapnel. The building rumbled for a moment as the aftershock washed over all the supports. 

_What the hell?_

He adjusted his scope to the warehouse entrance. Three oddly dressed mercs approached, their guns ready to fire, not up at him, but at anyone else still in the lower levels. An independent outfit looking to reap the bounty on their own? They were two humans and a salarian. One of them carelessly kicked a batarian's arm aside. He took aim at that one's head and began to squeeze the trigger. 

His heart skipped. Flinching the barrel away just in time, the shot slammed into their shield, followed by the distinctive crack of a human shoulder popping out of place. Just below where he hit was an N7 logo displayed proudly on their breastplate. 

“Ow! FUCK!” they screamed and threw what was probably a horrible look up at him behind their helmet. They sounded young, like a teenage boy or -- 

_It can’t be…_

Almost pompously, the N7 threw their shoulder back into place without assistance and rolled their neck. The other human extended a hand to help but was met with a headshake and an order to check the corners. 

“Blue Suns approaching from the rear,” called the salarian in the group. 

Garrus recognized him from reports about the virus. He started a clinic in the quarantine zone with the intention of curing the plague. The other companion was a human female wearing a ridiculously tight Cerberus get-up. This situation was getting stranger by the second. 

Despite their random arrangement, they worked excellently together. Each of them seemed to have professional training. The other mercs were dropping like flies. This squad was far more experienced than the damned children the mercs were sending over all day. The human in the N7 gear was dashing around the lower floor, lobbing biotic blasts from behind cover and sending mercs flying, completely unaffected by the injury he caused. 

The way she moved was engraved into his memory. It was unmistakable. His heart began racing. The vitals in his visor peaked and showed warning signs to reduce stressors. Garrus clung on to the sensation. This was the most *feeling* he'd done in days. 

Once the room was clear, she undid the latches on her helmet and pulled it off with a groan. A lock of her once tightly bound bun was stuck in the seams. She spent a moment trying to awkwardly walk to the stairs and untangle herself at the same time. Tight, dark brown coils began falling around her back and shoulders. 

Garrus went numb all over. The ghost of Commander Alex Shepard was walking up the stairs to meet him. It had to be a ghost. Or a hallucination brought upon by sleep deprivation. 

“Archangel,” said Shepard from behind him. 

Garrus paused before turning to her. If he looked and she wasn't real, if it wasn't really her, he wouldn't know what to do. For weeks after hearing of her death, he heard rumors of her body being found. Hell, he'd gone looking into the black market for clues when he arrived on Omega. Then, like a cruel joke, the reports abruptly ended. The most noble woman he had ever known just ceased to exist. 

With effort, he moved to the stack of nearby cargo containers. He didn't know if he was shaking from his exhaustion or the shock of seeing her face. How long had he spent denying her death, ruminating on what their next meeting would be like? Like it was a guarantee that he'd see her again. Now, here she was, after he'd come to turns with her passing -- or so he thought. The tremble in his hands let on otherwise. Garrus hoped she couldn't tell either way. 

“Shepard?” he said as he took a seat. “I thought you were dead.” 

Her expression was blank for a moment, then shock warped it as she recognized his voice. Garrus remembered he was still wearing his helmet. He unclasped it in the back and removed it slowly. When he looked up, Shepard was several feet closer to him. Those terrifyingly bright hazel eyes looked him up and down as if she could barely believe he was real. 

_The feeling's mutual._

With little grace, her mouth clamped shut into a huge smile. She walked toward him with her arms held wide as if she were about to hug him. She seemed to think better of it a second later and dropped them. The smile remained, though. 

“Garrus, what are you doing here?” Shepard asked incredulously. 

“Target practice.” 

She gave him a half-hearted grin at this, but her eyebrows rose, concerned. Disturbingly, a streak of red light flashed on a scar just under her cheekbone. Had that always been there? 

Guilt set in then. She was smiling at him and he didn’t feel like he deserved it. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

Garrus realized how tired he must sound. “I've been better. I'm going to do a lot better now that you're here. That is, if you're here to help, not collect a bounty.” 

“How did you even end up in this situation? There are three merc groups after you right now, you know that?” She seemed impressed. 

“You help me out of here, and I'll explain it. It's a...long story.” 

“There are mechs coming,” said the other human, stepping forward. She nodded to the bridge. Several weapon wielding robots were making their way across the barrier. 

“Looks like they're getting tired of wasting lives here,” said Garrus. He aimed his weapon's scope on the intruders. “I've been expecting a bigger push.” 

“Well they're bringing it. There’s a gunship on the way. It's not in the best working order, though,” Shepard said with a smirk. “Mordin, Miranda, take positions in front of the stairs.” She turned to Garrus as her squad hurried to the lower level. “Are you going to be alright up here?” 

Garrus hunched down and popped off a shot. A mech collapsed as it leapt on to the bridge. 

“I've been handling myself so far.” 

Shepard edged toward him and in a low voice said, “You shot me.” 

“It was my way of saying ‘good to see you’.” He flared his mandibles as he smiled. “Are you okay, though? Didn’t sound like it felt very good.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” she said, rolling her seemingly uninjured shoulder. 

“Yeah, that was a cute trick,” Garrus said, trying to hide the horror in his tone. 

“Got a lot of them, I’ll explain later,” she said as she wrapped her hair back into a bun. “There’s some stuff I want -- _need_ your help with. There may be a little danger, lots of killing, saving the galaxy. Ya know, the usual. You up for it?” 

Garrus hoped with everything he had he hadn’t passed out from exhaustion, that this wasn’t some ridiculous dream his addled mind stirred up. 

Their last words were not kind. It took months after her death for him to begin to think about forgiving himself for what he'd said. How many times had he wished he’d turned around that day two years ago and looked Shepard in her eyes and apologized? Whatever the number, he wouldn’t deserve her forgiveness. He would have been able to save her, get her off the ship in time. But he wasn’t there. He was too caught up in his own sense of justice and duty to humble himself to the Council’s mission, however pointless. 

And yet here she was, happy -- _excited_ to see him and asking for his help. Bitterness forgotten or dismissed. 

“Garrus?” 

Her voice lifted him out of his memories. She was looking up at him expectantly. He wasn't alone in remembering that fight. Shepard was searching his face to see if he still held a grudge. 

With a shrug, he said, “Eh, why not? I could use some more excitement in my life.” 

With another big grin, she made her way to the stairs, shoving her helmet back on and slamming the top with her fist to lock it in place. 

“Let's kick ass, Vakarian!” she called to him. 

“Just like old times, Shepard.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was as if he had never left her side. Overwhelming their opposition with combined force made Garrus remember just how much he had missed Alex Shepard. They fell easily into old routines, bad blood dismissed for now. 

He had set up his visor to her squad's comm channel so he could hear her whoops as mercs perished. Her biotics seemed as though they were on overdrive. She and her companion, Miranda, were launching foes left and right and Shepard was having a fantastic time doing so. 

Shepard applied her own system to the extensive training she received in the Alliance military. She was always organized. Each movement had a purpose; it just took an experienced eye to see. When you thought she had missed something – regenerating shields on an opponent or a precarious explosive container – she would turn around and use it to her advantage. It was like watching a life-sized game of chess, shrouded in dark energy. 

Her favorite weapon, a simple heavy pistol, came in and out of view as she switched between it and using both hands for biotic throws. Hooked into the holster on her back were a shotgun and a grenade launcher. Whoever had let her have a grenade launcher didn't know her very well. 

An all too familiar frustration was causing him a bit of a headache. What Shepard couldn't see were the smarter freelancers further down the bridge taking cover. From his vantage point he could see there were five mercs lined up behind a low wall. Only one of them was shooting, however, giving the illusion that he was back there alone. Whether Shepard was aware of this or not, she didn't mention it. Instead she crept forward to investigate on her own. 

“You could ask me, you know. I can see pretty much everything up here,” he said. 

“What?” she asked sharply. “No, no, I got it.” 

He wasn't going to let her jump into an ambush. Garrus couldn't get a good shot on any of the freelancers without causing one of them needless pain so he opted for a feint. He aimed just beyond where they were sitting and pulled the trigger. 

It worked; they dove out of cover, frightened an onslaught was going to rain on them from above. Shepard was there to pick them off as they cowered away. Two ran right back up the bridge, raising their guns in surrender. Though he planned to let them go, Garrus saw them drop before making it to the barrier. Someone on the other side had killed them for their cowardice. 

“Watch it, Commander, there's only so much ass-covering I can do for you up here,” he said into the comm for the whole squad to hear. 

“You just keep taking the easy pickings from your hide-y hole while I get the real work done.” 

Ah, the casual shit talking. It truly did feel as though they were never apart. Nobody synched up with his fighting style the way she did. Now, it was as if the strain of the last few days was something his brain had cooked up for variety. 

He had hope. Garrus could hope to see the next day instead of dreading it. 

Garrus blinked rapidly to clear his mind and focus on the data flowing across the feed in his visor. The bodies of his crew were still unharmed but he had forgotten them momentarily. He had to concentrate and remember why they were there in the first place. He was Archangel and his crew lay dead below him because of his carelessness. Shepard's presence didn't change that. 

“How are you holding up, Garrus?” Shepard asked breathlessly. 

“Doing just fine, but it looks like they're sending in the heavy artillery.” 

A YMIR was marching its way down the bridge. Its movements seemed jerkier than typical. 

“Mech not a problem,” said Mordin. “Security systems overwritten. Chances of it firing on us unlikely.” 

Sure enough the mech started blasting away at its companions. The mercs were trying to dodge out of cover to avoid it, leaving themselves open to biotic throws from Shepard. 

Garrus fired at the YMIR's head. It wobbled for a moment as sparks started flying out of the hole. With a crash, it toppled over. 

“Take cover,” he said to Shepard's squad. He ducked behind the ledge and waited for the eventual explosion. Mercenaries were calling for their team members to run, but it didn't seem like they were getting the message in time. 

The giant mech burst into piece, shaking the building as it crumbled. Slowly rising, Garrus checked to see what the carnage was. The few mercs still alive were suffering from massive injuries. These were easily picked off. Mordin had incendiary rounds and was calling out, “Wound cauterized!” as he fired them. 

A nightmarish war cry came from across the bridge. Spindly limbs dashing toward the base, Jaroth, leader of Eclipse, was making a suicide run for their position. Miranda took him out promptly with a biotic wave to the chest. He went flying off the bridge, screaming bloody murder as he went. 

“All clear,” Miranda called. “Any ideas as to how we get out of here?” 

Shepard, who was making her way up to Garrus, said, “I was thinking we could just kill every last one of them. Sound good?” 

He was pretty sure she was joking. “If we make a big enough dent, we can get across the bridge and make our way out.” He turned to look down the bridge at the barrier. “They're setting up reinforcements. Lots of them. None are coming, though. Do you know how many are back there?” 

“It's a constant flow, they've set up a recruitment operation in Afterlife.” She leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “You're pretty special to them. I don't think they'll be letting up anytime soon. Also, the krogan mentioned something about some bombs.” 

Just then, the building shook, rocked from a blast from below. 

“That'd be them....” 

Garrus groaned. “I blocked off another entrance in the basement, but it was a matter of time before they got through it.” 

“We'll take care of them. What needs to get done down there?” 

Garrus explained the series of doors that needed to be hacked closed to keep the mercs out. Shepard seemed to get it, though her tone was little skeptical as she said, “That's going to take some time.” She turned to her squad members. “Miranda, do you mind staying behind with Garrus?” 

He scoffed. “Shepard, I'll be fine. I’ve been on my own up here for two days.” 

“Good, then she can entertain you with lively conversation. C'mon, Mordin.” She hurried away with the salarian, leaving the other human behind. 

Miranda didn't seem all that pleased about it, but Garrus got the feeling there were few things that did please her. She made no verbal complaints, though. 

They both took position against the ledge and prepared for another assault. Shepard's voice came through his earpiece as a new set of mercs were appearing on the bridge. “I'm at the first shutter. Blood Pack's here.” 

“Make sure there's no one in the way,” he instructed. “They won't close if there's something under them.” 

Shepard snorted. “I was so looking forward to seeing a vorcha get crushed by this.” 

Miranda was shooting down thugs on their end of the building with ease. Her movement was structured, practiced. The way she reloaded her weapon made it seem like she could do it in her sleep -- like she enjoyed doing it in her sleep. There was something just too perfect about her. 

Garrus had never seen quite so many well-proportioned curves on a female human before, at least not one carrying so much artillery. He was used to the softer look humans had in general but this one had a particularity to her. 

“You're welcome to keep staring, just as long as you're shooting as well,” she muttered. 

He had forgotten he wasn't wearing his helmet anymore. Garrus shifted his eye back to his scope hurriedly. “Sorry. You're really well...trained.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

Garrus never thought he would see Shepard ordering Cerberus around, let alone willingly working with them. She wasn’t one to forgive easily. It had once been a personal mission of hers to destroy as many Cerberus outposts as possible, right down to the grunts working in their labs. 

_What changed?_ He thought, glancing over at Miranda again. 

Perhaps, he considered, this woman wasn’t an active Cerberus member. Mordin had come with them, and he couldn’t have been a part of the human-centric organization. It looked as though Shepard was collecting another unlikely group to stop the Reapers. Her crews had always been diverse. Recalling this, Miranda’s presence didn’t seem so improbable. 

“I'm at the last shutter, Garrus,” Shepard said in his ear. “These shitheads must really hate you. They brought fucking varren with them.” 

Garrus chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds like Garm.” 

Miranda suddenly turned and looked behind them at another door. “Someone's trying to get through.” 

A metallic scraping was coming from another one of the entrances Garrus had sealed earlier. Somehow, someone had found a way to force their way in. 

_Shit._

“Hurry up, Shepard, we're expecting more uninvited guests.” 

“Shutter sealed, on our way back.” 

Miranda focused on the bridge as Garrus moved to the back of their location, aiming at the door. He could hear a familiar voice barking orders behind it. 

Garm, Blood Pack leader. He knew the krogan all too well. Despite his significant lack of intelligence, he was one of Omega’s worst criminal commanders. Civilians were shown the brunt of his barbarity, pitting wards against each other to win the right to be left alone. For months, Garrus had been working to keep his seemingly endless supply of vorcha recruits in check. 

It was with great displeasure that the turian didn't get a chance to kill him the last time they met. With Shepard and her team here now, though, he was more than confident he could take him out. 

The door burst open and a couple shotgun toting vorcha appeared. Garm pushed passed his lackeys and pointed up at their vantage point. “Tear them to shreds!” he hollered. 

Garrus shot the closest thug in the forehead. The krogan coward momentarily, but recovered, angrier still. 

“Sonofabitch, cover me! I've got Archangel.” 

Shepard made her grand reappearance just then and started raining fire on the intruders. Garm was storming up the stairs, his shields holding up against the onslaught. He was truly making a beeline for Garrus. 

“Company!” Miranda called. She rolled into cover behind a couch and started firing on the krogan as he approach. It barely fazed him. 

Forgetting about his gun, Garm ran straight at Garrus who dodged out of the way just in time, a feat not easily achieved with his rifle in hand. The Blood Pack leader crashed into a shelving unit to slow himself down. 

“I'm gonna snap you in half and eat your guts, you turian piece of shit!” He rounded on them and charged again. Miranda flung herself over the couch and Garrus rolled in the opposite direction behind some storage crates. 

Garm was more determined than the last time they met. His charges were forcing them toward the back window. He seemed to be ignoring everything else going on around him just to get to Garrus. 

“C'mon, Garm, you're getting careless.” He tossed a crate at the krogran's head. There wasn't enough to time to reload his rifle. He needed to stall. “That redundant nervous system isn't going to hold up much longer.” 

“Shudup!” Garm roared. 

He kicked the crate out of the way before charging once more. Garrus hopped on the containers and leaped over his head. 

Miranda was firing rounds into Garm's back but was making little progress. “Shepard! A little help!” 

“I'm trying! Once again, fucking _varren_!” 

“Domesticated attack creatures particularly attracted to me,” quipped Mordin. “Diet rich in salarian flesh, most probable.” 

Garm finally lifted his shotgun from his side. “Quit running and fight me!” He pulled the trigger but the shot went wide. His rage was affecting his aim. 

Shepard came tearing up the hall. “Coming!” she screamed. 

She was placing her pistol back in its holster with one hand and summoning her biotics in the other. Miranda did the same. They were preparing a combined attack. Garrus hurried behind them and began reloading as fast as he could. 

He pulled the trigger, firing a concussive shot right between the two humans. It got Garm in the chest and pushed him back from the shock. His shield shattered. Miranda blasted him with an energy wave that lifted him in the air and Shepard followed up with one that tossed him over the ledge. Mordin fired on him as he fell to the ground. Garm struggled for a moment where he landed, but eventually he choked out a final scream and then collapsed. 

“Area secured,” said Mordin. “Excellently done.” 

Shepard took a few deep breaths as her biotics settled away. She took a seat on what was left of the couch. “That one wanted you dead pretty bad. You two have history?” 

“I have history with all of them, but I guess my time with Garm was especially important to him.” He checked his omnitool to look for any more signs of intrusion in the basement. “The lower levels are clear; no one's going to be sneaking up behind us. Think we can make a break across the bridge?” 

Shepard waved a hand at him nonchalantly. “No problem, it's just the Blue Suns left, right?” 

The back window shattered as a hail of gunfire crashed into the room. A gunship was hovering just outside. Inside sat three Blue Suns mercs. Garrus, Shepard and Miranda dove into cover. 

“Are you timing this stuff for comedic effect?” Garrus shouted to Shepard over the rattling roar of the machine gun. “'Cause I'm not laughing!” 

“Sorry, not everyone can be as hilarious as you, Vakarian!” 

“More Blue Suns approaching from below!” Mordin called. 

“Think you can handle the gunship for a bit?” Shepard asked Garrus. 

“Go, I got it.” 

Shepard raced away, crouching to avoid the gunfire. Miranda remained. She replaced Shepard behind the couch and started tossing energy balls over it. 

Mercs were pouring in through the window. They were getting in the way of getting a good shot of the gunship, which was swerving in and out of view. This was the toughest group, mostly because they had better funding. Their shields held up better to concussive shots and biotic blast so taking them out took more time. Garrus was getting frustrated. 

Miranda also seemed to be tired of whittling down their defenses so she came up with a better idea. Instead of firing on them, she waited for the mercs to move out of cover and then threw them with her biotics, tossing them out the window. It was working. Garrus set up shots to disable them so she had more time to draw up the energy for the blasts. 

The mercs were cleared but the gunship was still out there. Garrus stepped out of cover to get a better firing position, eye still trained down his scope. 

“Here it comes!” Miranda shouted, but the gunship had already started firing. 

Searing pain flooded his chest as Garrus took several direct shots that blasted away his shields. He was knocked to the floor by the impact, but was able to crawl into cover. Tarak was screaming at him over the comm in the gunship, but he could barely understand what he was saying. All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his skull. He looked down. A hole in his armor was smoking slightly. He was hit, but not badly. If anything there would be some damage to the plating on his chest. 

To his left, just below him, Shepard and Mordin were still busy with the mercs rappelling down the side of the building. Miranda was taking cover behind a far wall as the couch was now in several fluffy pieces strewn all over the area. Tarak was not letting up. Every few seconds a new hail of gunfire came through the window and he was still screaming intangibly, mostly profanities. 

From his location, Garrus couldn't get a clear shot and no one else was in a position to take down the airship before it started causing more damage. He knew just behind him was a crate with enough side cover to give him the ability to properly aim and perhaps hit the pilot. They were so close to getting out. Taking the chance was worth it. 

He made a break for the better cover when the next barrage ended. The world seemed shrouded by an invisible blanket. The gunfire from below seemed distant and distorted. Tarak's shouting was even more indiscernible. Now he was out in the open. 

Garrus took a step. Suddenly all the sound rushed back in like an airlock had been opened in deep space. 

Miranda started to warn him to stay back. The explosion cut her off. 

Swept up in a wave of heat and smoke, Garrus felt his body lift up off the ground and then fall again hard. The wind was immediately knocked out of it. At the same moment, his lungs demanded air, but all he could suck in was fire. An incredible pain tore into his face and neck. He saw white spots burst in front of his eyes and blood started pouring into his mouth. 

His body screamed for oxygen but his throat had completely shut. Every gasp granted him more blood, choking him over and over. His lungs began filling with fluid. The room was going blue as more blood poured into his eye. 

He could hear Shepard’s voice calling his name, again cloudy. There was great deal of heavy clattering going on next to him and then several loud blasts. 

Suddenly, silence. Everything went dark. His lungs were no longer desperate to expand. 

_ Almost. Almost made it. _


	3. Chapter 3

Garrus woke with a start. He was immediately blinded by bright, artificial light. The abrupt awakening was causing a headache. It was after he shut his eyes again that he noticed he was no longer wearing his visor. There was no stream of information telling him about his surroundings. 

He made an attempt to sit up but his whole body was stiff. It felt as though every one of his muscles was bruised. There were very few places that didn't hurt to move. All attempts to turn his head were met with vertigo so he decided to remain still. Gaurrus pealed his eye open slowly. From where he lay he could make out that he was on a hospital bed in a sleek medbay. 

“Garrus, it's good to see you awake.” 

A familiar gray haired woman walked up to the table he was laying on. Wrinkles around her eyes and mouth stretched when she smiled at him, pleasant and sympathetic. 

“Dr. Chakwas...” Garrus uttered with difficulty. Something was keeping his mouth from moving. He suddenly realized that he couldn't feel his right mandible or the right side of his neck. The doctor prevented him from touching his face with a firm hand. 

“You have considerable damage. While it may not feel like it now, a missile grazed you. Nothing important was hurt,” she interrupted as he began to sit up, shocked. “But there will be scarring.” 

Garrus tried to remember what his last moments were before passing out. Garm had charged him, knocking aside heavy crates like toy blocks to get his meaty fingers around the turian’s neck. Then there was the gunship and Tarak’s insane sermon blasting out over its comms. He couldn’t remember the in-between, only the parts that kicked up his heartrate. He recalled getting shot in the chest when the gunship got in range of the window, but not a missile…. 

No, there was more. When he fell, when blood was flooding his airways, there was something else. Bright pinpoints breaking through the blue stains in his eyes….hazel eyes…. 

“Shepard!” Garrus shot up from where he lay and immediately regretted it. Two of his ribs were fractured. Chakwas hurried over and put a steady hand on his shoulder, easing him back down. 

“The commander is on the ship, Garrus. She’s fine.” She gave him a pat and rounded the table, busying herself with the right side of his face. He couldn't feel anything, but he heard wet fabric being peeled away. 

“Where are we?” he asked. His vision was getting clearer. The medbay looked familiar yet deliberately not so. 

“This is the Normandy. SR-2. A little different from what you remember.” 

Garrus nodded. He could see it now, the way the room was set up to look similar to the medbay on the SR-1. Instead of a solid wall in front of him, there was frosted glass that looked out onto the rest of the level. The galley looked the same. There were a few humans sitting at the large tables there eating. 

“This one was built by Cerberus,” Chakwas added. She walked to the back of the room and rummaged through a supply bin. “Top of the line, all the new gadgets and whatnot. Even has an AI controlling bits of it.” 

“Aren’t they outlawed -- AH!” A sharp pain flashed across his mandible. The drugs were ebbing quickly. 

“I doubt that is something Cerberus is concerned with.” She approached him again with medigel and a new bandage. She reapplied them carefully. “There. This bandage should hold for a few hours. You'll need to keep replacing them for a while.” 

With a little effort, Chakwas helped him sit up. The room spun for a moment so he kept his head down to steady himself. His armor had been removed to attend to his injuries. He was wearing shorts and a flimsy medical tunic. He gave himself a once over. As expected, his chest plates had been bruised, but their pain was an annoyance compared to the one rising up his neck and into his face. His talons, on both his hands and feet, needed filing. He felt vulnerable and dangerous out of his armor, especially around humans who coward at the mere mention of claws and fangs. 

“Your armor is here,” said Chakwas, reading his concerned expression. She gestured to the table across from him. “I think you're ready enough to put it back on and go, but you must come see me if you're experiencing excess discomfort or dizziness. You likely have a concussion.” 

He nodded and climbed down from the bed and walked over to his armor. His talons clicked on the floor as he moved. “How long was I out?” 

“About eighteen hours,” said Chakwas. “A lot of that I expect was from pure exhaustion. You were working your body for a very long time, Garrus. Please consider resting for a while, though I doubt Shepard will allow that." 

“Is she around?” 

“She is. I was supposed to instruct you to meet with her whenever you woke up.” She looked away from him and seemed to address the room as a whole. “EDI, could you locate Shepard for us.” 

A console near the door lit up and a spherical interface rose out of it. A cool female voice came from it. “Commander Shepard is currently in the communication room with Lieutenant Taylor.” 

“That's the AI then?” Garrus asked as he snapped the last latches of his chestpiece in place. A hole had been blasted into the collar, likely from the missile that hit him. 

“Yes, Officer Vakarian, I am EDI,” said the AI, sounding a little indignant. “I work as the ship's main warfare defense system. If you need further assistance, please do not hesitate to ask.” It went silent and the orb slid back into the console. 

Chakwas smirked. “She takes a little getting used to, but is an incredible asset. The comm room is upstairs. I'll be in here if you need anything.” 

Garrus fitted his visor in place and made his way out of the door. On the other side he took a moment to situate himself in his surroundings. The Normandy: the prize example of turian and human cooperation now redesigned to fit Cerberus' needs. Shepard probably had quite a bit to say about it. 

The crew quarters looked pretty much the same, if not a little more spacious. There was a manned kitchen near the communal area now. He saw the stairs and catwalk to the batteries. If he was going to stay on the ship, perhaps he could be stationed there, somewhere more useful than the cargo bay. The Mako could only be fussed with so much, especially after Shepard got ahold of it. 

It was the steady stream of humans in Cerberus attire that made him weary. A small group of men sitting at a table in the mess stared at him. Instinctively, he checked their vitals in his visor, but none had elevated heart rates or even bitter expressions. A couple of them even waved in greeting. Garrus nodded back, but kept them in his sights until he reached the elevator. 

Their ease and friendliness gave him pause. Garrus wondered if this was some sort of trap. Chakwas hadn’t acted as if she we working under duress, though he wouldn’t put it past Cerberus to brainwash someone. The whole situation was incredibly odd, especially given the lack of hostility. This organization was never hesitant to express their bitterness toward aliens. 

He found the elevator around the corner and stepped in. It brought him to the CIC without prompting. Garrus assumed the ship's AI had control of it. 

This view was more familiar than the last. In front of him, the galaxy map conquered the area. Several ensigns and navigators bustled around the vast model and many nodded to him as they passed the elevator. He made to step forward to say hello to Pressly, but caught himself in the doorway. Sadness mixed with a hint of guilt settled into his stomach. 

Joker had given him all the bad news when the remaining SR1 crew had returned to the Citadel. It was only two years but he had forgotten that quickly Shepard wasn’t the only person they had lost over Alchera. 

With a quick glance further ahead, Garrus could just see the back of the pilot’s familiar cap in the cockpit. This settled him a little. Everything on this ship was a little different, but seeing Joker in the pilot’s chair -- where he belonged -- was reassuring. Garrus made a mental note to talk to him later on. 

A red-haired woman standing at the desk to the right of the galaxy map greeted him then. Her eyes grew wide when she caught sight of his injury. 

“Oh, Officer Vakarian! You're awake!” she chirped. “We didn't know how long you'd be resting. I certainly hope you're feeling better, sir. Kelly Chambers.” She uttered the last part as if she had forgotten the name was her own. 

She was very young. Garrus wondered how she had gotten a position on the ship. 

“I'm fine. I'm looking for Shepard,” Garrus said promptly. 

“Oh, of course. You can step through the armory to get to the war room.” She gestured to his left. 

He passed through the armory, which was surprisingly well stocked. Cerberus must have had quite the stockpile to pay for this firepower. Despite his desire to stay and look through it all, he wanted to see Shepard again. 

After a bit of searching a little help from EDI, Garrus found Shepard in the war room, leaning over the table and talking to another Cerberus crew member. This one was more physically built than the rest of the men he saw on the ship. 

“Tough son of a bitch,” the man said with a laugh. “Didn't think you'd be up yet.” 

“Hey!” said Shepard, with a huge smile. 

“So I must not look that bad if you're happy to see me,” Garrus said to her. “No one else has mentioned it, so I figured they were just being polite.” 

She snorted and gave a dramatic shrug. “Hell, you were always ugly. Any damage is actually an improvement the way I see it.” 

It was Garrus's turn to laugh but a shock of pain arched through his jaw. He raised his hand to touch it, but heard Dr. Chakwas reprimanding him in the back of his head. 

“Stop. Laughing hurts. I can't eat if this thing falls off. At least I get a sexy scar out of this. The krogan women will go nuts.” 

Shepard laughed again. The sound cheered him immensely. Her whole demeanor changed his mood. Seeing her made him feel a lot more comfortable in his surroundings. Chakwas was familiar, but she didn’t remind him of their achievements like Shepard did. When you save a cultural hub from total destruction by taking down a indoctrinated cyborg together, a very particular kind of bond is formed. 

The man on the other side of the table shifted a little where he stood. An amused, knowing look was raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh, Garrus, this is Lieutenant Jacob Taylor.” 

“Just Jacob's fine,” he said. “We're glad to have you on board, sir. That is, if you're staying.” 

“Of course he is,” said Shepard with no uncertainty. 

“Uh, yes I will be staying,” Garrus said, ignoring her. “And it's just Garrus.” 

“We made sure to leave evidence to make it look like Archangel died in the battle at your warehouse. Arrangements were made to have the bodies of your team collected and stored respectfully.” Jacob picked up a datapad from the conference table in front of him and handed it to Garrus. “If you know of any next of kin or home worlds for them, we can be accommodating.” 

Garrus's throat suddenly grew dry as he looked down at the datapad. “Thank you. I'll, uh, see what I can do.” 

Jacob saluted Shepard. “I'll be in the armory if you need me.” 

Garrus nodded at Jacob as he exited. He stepped into the room a little and looked around. Cerberus didn't spare expenses, it seemed. Everything looked very new and clean. All the surfaces gleamed as if freshly polished. This ship may have been called the Normandy but the original had less expensive tastes. 

“Cerberus, Shepard?” he said, turning to her slowly. “I know it's been two years, but we've seen them do some pretty terrible stuff.” 

Shepard shook her head. “I know, I didn’t forget. I’m not exactly comfortable here.” 

He tapped the console on the table. A holographic representation of the ship blinked into view. A single red dot in the middle was labeled “You are here”. He lifted a browplate at her. 

“Okay, so maybe all this fancy shit is really cool. It's sort of incredible seeing what disposable income can generate.” 

“I don't remember you being easily swayed by shiny objects, Commander,” he teased. He tapped the console again and the hologram disappeared. 

She tilted her head down and gave him a sullen look. “You know it's not just that. It’s not that easy to forget Kahoku.” 

Garrus stiffened. The admiral’s death was a difficult subject for most of the original crew, but no one had taken it as personally as Shepard. 

“It's either Cerberus or...well, nothing,” Shepard went on. “The Council has their heads up their asses about the Reapers and there are human colonies disappearing throughout the galaxy. You should see the footage we got from Freedom's Progress. I can't let it go on. We have to do something.” 

“And you're sure Cerberus is the best way?” 

“No,” she said, turning slowly on her heel to face the table again. “But I don't see anyone else with their resources trying to do anything about the Reapers. Of course, I've been dead for two years, so I'm probably not as informed as I should be.” 

“Yeah, about that....” Garrus began, stepping toward her and gestured to her face. The scars on her cheeks weren't as prominent as they were when they were on Omega. Still, they were new and as far as he remembered, Shepard never had glowing capillaries. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “That's a complicated story.” 

“We're both full of those, huh?” 

“Do you...want to catch up?” 

Garrus could see the apprehension in her eyes, hear it in her tone. There was baggage in it all, something she wasn't completely sure she wanted to talk about just yet. Neither had mentioned their fight before he had gone back to the Citadel. There were sore topics, ones that didn’t seem to fit in this generally happy moment. She was only asking to be polite. He didn't have the energy for a heart-to-heart now either so turning down the offer was easy. 

Before he could decline, EDI burst out of the terminal in the table. 

“Commander, there is an Eclipse depot on the planet Daratar that has a sizable collection of useful cargo. It would be unwise to put this venture off as the stability of the cargo is unknown. Aria T'Loak provided its exact location.” 

“Thanks, I'll get right on that.” The glare she gave Garrus seemed to say, _Have you seen this? Isn’t it amazing?_ He tried to hold back a grin. 

“I need to talk to Mordin and Miranda about a few things,” she said to him. “There's a grocery list of leads to investigate and people to pick up.” She looked up at him, face hard and determined. “I would have warned you about Cerberus, but I didn’t know it was going to be you on Omega. Just know, I’m not them. This is still the Normandy, still my ship. I won't make you do anything you'll regret.” 

“I trust you, Shepard. I'll go where you need me.” He tried his hardest to give her a reassuring look but doubted his injury was allowing it. 

“Thanks. It's really nice having another familiar face around here.” 

“Even one as ugly as mine?” Garrus asked as they both walked to the door. 

“I can get used to it. It's not just krogan women that like scars, ya know.” 

“Mm, I'm honored,” he said sarcastically. “I'm going to be in the forward batteries if you need me. See what this thing is packing.” 

They exited the hall through opposite doors. On his way back to the crew's quarters, he looked down at the datapad Jacob gave him and started tapping at the display. Members of the Normandy crew were saying hello to him as he passed, but he only nodded in response. It was odd having people acknowledge him as a superior. He wasn't very used to being called “sir” or “Officer”. The idea of anyone on his Omega crew saluting him was comical. They were organized, but not that organized. 

His heart sank. No, not organized enough. 

Garrus stepped through the door to the batteries and closed it behind him quickly. He moved to the back of the room, just to the left of the cannon, and leaned against the wall. 

Each of his crew members had a few sentences containing the little information Cerberus had on them. Many were just physical descriptors and none had their full names listed. All that precaution isn’t helping me now, he thought bitterly. 

Garrus slid down the wall and sat on the floor, wishing he had taken more time to get to know them. What information he had about their pasts was a good start but he doubted he would be able to find homes for all of them. He tried not think about what would happen to the bodies that had nowhere to go. 

This room was quiet. The mass effect engine below rumbled gently, but other than that, Garrus had nothing to distract him. No more traps to set or areas to secure for invasion, no more mercs to shoot. It was just him and his memories. Garrus took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The sooner he could start remembering any personal information about his teammates on Omega, the sooner he could get them to a final resting place.


	4. Chapter 4

“We’ve lost you again, boss.” 

The sound of the car’s engine roared back into Garrus’ mind. Omega’s Kima district developed in front of him as her smile slipped away. 

“Come back, boss.” 

“I’m here,” said Garrus. 

Sidonis leaned forward, shifting a little to get a good look at him. 

“You look half dead. When did you sleep last?” 

Butler scoffed. “I stopped asking him that weeks ago. Runs on adrenaline and sweet justice, don’t ya, boss?” 

Garrus stayed silent to collect himself. Memories of Shepard were always vivid, almost tangible. They drained what little energy he had. 

“Home sweet home,” said Butler as he pushed in the wheel of the stolen sky car. 

The landing was smooth and quiet. Garrus brought up his omni-tool and tapped in the code to drop down the bridge leading up to their base. He got out and pulled the seat forward for Sidonis to exit. Butler was already standing near the trunk when they rounded the car. The human rolled his neck, the girth of it barely containing the veins bulging out his skin. 

“Ready?” he asked the turians after flexing his biceps a couple times. 

“Go.” 

Butler threw the trunk door open and they all dove forward to restrain the salarian within. 

“Unhand me! This is outrageous!” he screamed, writhing viciously. “I haven’t done anything!” 

“Like hell you haven’t!” Butler shouted over him with a laugh. He managed to hook both his arms under the squirming man’s shoulders and hauled him out of the car. Sidonis hurried around him to cut the ties holding his wrists together. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” said Garrus evenly. “We actually want your help.” 

The salarian looked up at him, face stricken with anger and confusion. “Help with what, exactly?” 

“You’re lookin’ at Archangel, mate,” Butler explained. “It’s Weaver, right?” 

“Ah-ya-ya yes! Yes, it is!” His rage evaporated immediately. The salarian snatched Garrus’ hand into his and began shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I hope you didn’t mind the, um, display I made to get your attention.” 

“We saw it. Blasting Shurta’s comm towers in broad daylight wasn’t the smartest idea.” Garrus pulled his hand back as politely as he could and added, “But it was spectacular. Sid is going to have a chat with you about subtlety, though. Welcome aboard.” 

“Thank you, sir! Very, very happy to be here.” 

“Can see that,” Butler muttered as Sidonis ushered Weaver up the bridge. He leaned against the vehicle and turned to Garrus. “Gotta fanbase now, huh?” 

The turian groaned loudly. He took a few steps down the bridge and looked out to the spiked pillars piercing Omega’s horizon. 

“I don’t want this. I didn’t get into this to be famous.” 

“You can’t expect to play the hero and not get treated like one.” 

Garrus wanted to object, but knew it was pointless. Archangel was renowned now. Locals praised him in bars and thugs fled their hideouts when word got out that he was in the area. A housing complex in the Fumi district had “Archangel is watching” spray painted on its facade. There was no denying their influence. 

Butler approached him and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. They stood together, silently, for a long while as Garrus pulled himself together again. Finally, he straightened and thanked the man for his support. 

“S’aright, mate. We’ve all got demons. Some are more persistent than others. Let’s go ditch this car. Nalah’s expecting me back for dinner.” 

*** 

Once he started looking into the families and homeworlds of the Archangel crew, Garrus felt a little overwhelmed by the support Cerberus was giving him. Whatever information he asked for was sent to his omni-tool within minutes. Shipping schedules, dock numbers, bureaucratic issues that would hinder transport; all were sent to him by a small group working from Omega in a secure location. The bodies were also held there, in refrigerated coffins, ready to be transported discretely. 

He tried to get into contact with the families he knew of. Only one had responded so far, the wife of his best enforcer, Anthony Butler. Nalah assured him that her husband would get a proper burial on Earth once she had the funds to make the trip off Omega. She also implored the turian to stop blaming himself for Butler’s death. _He’d beat you senseless if he knew what you tried to do,_ she had written. _Don’t throw your life away over this. You have so much more to offer._

Garrus didn’t feel as effective as she was letting on. He was responsible for the lives of ten remarkable people. It was his negligence that allowed a trusted member to betray them. Nalah didn’t need to hear this, though. Ignoring her refusal to accept the money, Garrus sent her enough credits to travel to Earth and remain there for the foreseeable future. It was acquired from crime lords who had no use for it in death and used in cases of emergencies such as this. If he couldn’t turn back time and protect his crew, he could at least ensure their families were safe and comfortable. 

The majority of his time was spent working on these transport arrangements and studying the Javelin, the Normandy’s main defense system. In part, he was hiding. It seemed that every time he ventured out, a member of the crew wanted to question him about his experience on Omega or as a C-Sec officer. Kelly Chambers was especially bad about this. She acted as the ship counselor and felt it was her duty to extract every feeling out of him. 

Garrus rarely saw Shepard in the following four days though they spoke regularly over comms. She was never in one place for very long. She was either running around the ship, checking up on the crew to see if they needed anything, or ashore collecting supplies, information and people. 

Shepard made a final trip to Omega to pick up another squad member before infiltrating the Eclipse smuggling depot on Daratar. Garrus stumbled across him while looking for a wedge pillow comfortable enough for a turian in the cargo bay. Across from the door, a console screen cycled footage from all over the ship, including the catwalk leading up to the batteries. 

A gruff voice called out to him from the other end of the room, “Ah, you’ve found my hiding spot.” 

Zaeed Massani strutted toward him, arm already extended. They shook hands and introduced themselves. 

“Archangel, eh? I heard a lot about you while I worked on Omega. You were a real pain in the ass.” He laughed, his voice harsh and gravelly. 

Garrus had heard a lot about him, too, but didn't let on as much. Zaeed was a well-known freelance mercenary. As an individual, his actions didn't threaten the livelihood of Omega's civilians. He worked mostly as a bounty hunter in the employ of rich bureaucrats. When their jobs intersected, Garrus instructed the team to give the merc a wide berth. It was a well-known fact that Zaeed’s main focus was on his next paycheck and had no issue disposing of anyone who got in the way. 

The two men learned they had a lot in common despite their differing occupations. Zaeed didn’t tolerate slave trading and found most of the crime syndicates on Omega completely inept. He also had a plethora of information about the mercenary groups all over the galaxy that proved useful. This helped Garrus know what channels to avoid when dispersing the bodies of his former crew; their enemies had no issue disrespecting the dead. The many stories Zaeed had to share about life as a merc were highly entertaining. He never left out the gruesome details. 

Shepard, Miranda and Zaeed went out to fetch the cargo from Daratar, its location given to Shepard as a favor from Aria T’Loak. After a probe was sent down to confirm its location, it became clear she had neglected to mention the cargo had most likely been obtained illegally and Eclipse was in the process of abandoning it with several YMIR mechs to destroy the evidence. Shepard had hauled her grenade launcher on to the transport ship, all too eager to use it again. 

They returned from the desert planet covered in dust, but looking pleased. Miranda was tapping away at a datapad, taking inventory of the element zero, weapon mods and other equipment they had picked up when Garrus went down to the loading dock. Her form fitting outfit seemed have repelled the dust and only a few specks lingered where her suit met her skin. The operative’s hair was sleek and full as ever, not a strand out of place as if she hadn’t been wearing a helmet. 

Shepard, in sharp contrast to Miranda, was surrounded by a ring of red dirt by the armor lockers. She was practically dripping in sweat, her hair was a tangled mess and her toes were caked in sand. Still, Shepard was grinning gently to herself, pleased with her work. 

“Garrus,” said Miranda, though she didn't look up from the screen. “I was going to come up to speak to you after this. How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” He resisted the urge to touch the bandage on his face. Chakwas had just fitted a new one for the day, but it was already beginning to sag. 

“Good. We’re on our way to the next mission. Shepard and I think you are well-suited for it.” 

Shepard padded toward them then. She had stripped down to a black tank top. The light from her cybernetics shown faintly against her dark skin, especially around her collarbone and ankles. He tried to keep the rumble of worry from rising up in his subvocals. Shepard was muscular, always had been, but compared to turians, her frame was still slight. It bothered him to see her so willingly vulnerable. 

“Can we meet in the comm room in half an hour?” Miranda asked them. “I would like to brief you both about Purgatory, especially if you still insist I remain aboard the ship, Commander.” 

Pursing her lips thoughtfully, Shepard nodded. “Yes, I do. I need you here if anything goes wrong.” 

“Sorry, I'm a little out of the loop,” Garrus said. 

“I can explain a little, c'mon.” She threw her thumb toward the elevator. They left Miranda in the loading bay to finish up the cargo log. 

They got off on the top level at the captain's quarters. Shepard entered a code into the door and it slid open. 

“You have unread messages at your communication unit, Commander.” EDI's voice greeted them as they entered the room. 

“Thanks,” Shepard muttered. She moved to a drawer just to the left of the entrance and pulled out a fluffy white towel. “I need to shower, but I can talk to you from in there.” She gestured toward a silver door behind her desk. “Make yourself at home.” 

Garrus wasn't sure that he could. With each step, he worried he would break something. Shepard's room was huge and stocked with many fragile amenities. To his left, a large, empty fish tank sat in the wall, providing much of the light that filled the room. Down the steps was her queen-sized bed, a pile of blankets bunch up on one side. Matching leather couches and armchairs were placed around a small table. On it sat a single wine glass that still held dregs of her last drink. 

“We're headed for Purgatory,” Shepard called from the bathroom. “Should be there in a couple days. Do you know anything about it?” 

“Not really. I know it's run by the Blue Suns.” 

“We have to pick up someone held there. Dossier's on my desk.” 

Garrus went back up the steps and looked through the datapads near her personal console. There was one set aside so he picked it up. The screen lit up and the words “Omega: Archangel” scrolled across the top. 

This surprised him, though he thought it probably shouldn't have. He had led a vigilante band that caused irreversible damage to the reigning crime groups on the space station. Of course Cerberus would have a profile on him. Still, it was odd seeing it all written out. He had a file in a major database that someone had been updating regularly. For all the trouble they had gone through to keep their base location and raid information off the record, it didn't seem to phase Cerberus at all. It didn’t have any personal details about him, which was reassuring. 

Shepard exited the bathroom then, shrouded in steam. “Did you find it?” 

“No, I found mine, though.” 

She smiled and said, “It seemed to have everything in it except who you were. Almost like Cerberus knew but wanted it to be a surprise.” She rifled through the other pile, picked up another datapad and handed it to him. “After we found you, I thought I should do a little more digging than what they provided. Tell me if you notice anything strange.” 

Garrus scrolled through the information on the screen, trying not to look up as Shepard pulled clothes out of the drawers under the fish tank. She was wrapped in a white towel though it barely covered the tops of her legs. He was about as indifferent to her nakedness as she was; he had seen her in various states of undress several times. Shepard had the habit of tending to her own wounds on the field when professional medical assistance was unavailable. 

It was her scarring that bothered him. When she dropped the towel to put on an undershirt, he saw one long scar that worked the length of her spine. It glowed brighter than all the others on her body. It was like seeing the zipper on the back of a costume, as if she could step out of her skin any moment. 

“This is...cryptic,” he pointed out, continuing to read the convict’s dossier. “There isn't a single physical descriptor.” 

“It’s weird, right? You would think someone would mention it.” She came back to him, tousling her hair dry with the towel, fully dressed. 

“There also isn't any mention of why they’re in prison, either.” 

Shepard nodded. “Seems like Cerberus is hiding something, right?” 

“Not exactly surprising.” 

The commander picked up another datapad and turned it on. “This is more extensive. Miranda helped me a bit. She thought it was weird her dossier was so bare, too.” 

Garrus took it from her and scrolled through the data. The criminal record took up eight pages, all taking place within a ten year span. There were few personal details about her. No one seemed to be able to lock down her actual appearance, either; many grainy pictures were taken from security footage, some sketches created from witness accounts. Because she was bald, many assumed she was male. 

“She's experienced,” he offered. 

“The Blue Suns captured her after she raided a Cerberus facility. No one knows why she did it or why the Blue Suns were even there. All of that information is stuck somewhere even Miranda can't get to.” 

“They took her to Purgatory after that?” 

Shepard nodded. “They put her in cryo not long after she got there, but there’s no reason listed. She’s been in the tank for over a year.” 

“Spirits….” 

“Yeah, it's fucked up.” 

He turned his head to the side, skeptical. “You sure you want her on the ship?” 

“I'm positive. She’s incredible. She's a damned powerful biotic, and you know coming from me that's saying something.” 

“I do.” 

Shepard dragged her fingers through the bigger tangles in her hair and pulled it into her typical bun. Together, they left her quarters and made their way to the comm room. 

At the CIC, Kelly Chambers confronted them as they got out of the elevator. “Commander, you have unread messages at your terminal. I think you'll want to take a look.” 

“Fine,” Shepard said with a sigh. “I'll meet you in there.” 

Miranda was already at the conference table, looking over a holographic model of Purgatory, when Garrus walked in. She was accompanied by Zaeed, who was leaning against the far wall, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was carefully studying her every curve. 

“Shepard's checking her messages,” Garrus said before she could ask. “Seemed important.” 

Miranda only nodded, but her posture weakened slightly. She recovered just as quickly and continued looking at the model in front of her. He thought maybe she knew how serious the message was. It made sense for Cerberus to keep tabs on who was contacting Shepard. Miranda’s reaction, though, was strange. Why would she care enough about the contents for it to affect her poise? 

Shepard walked through the doorway not long afterward. Her face read nothing, though her hand was grabbing at her collar as if her shirt was too tight around the neck. When Garrus asked if everything was okay, she brushed him off with a nod. “What have you got for us?” she asked Miranda. 

With a wave of her hand, Miranda spun the Purgatory on display so that it was hovering parallel to the table. “The prison is a reconstituted cattle transport. There are thirty blocks, each holding about four hundred cells. Estimates put the number of current prisoners at around three thousand.” 

“How many guards?” Zaeed asked. 

“Fifteen hundred, a foolishly large amount, from my perspective. Which brings me to the warden....” Miranda tapped on the console and the starship disappeared. It was replaced with the figure of a turian. “Kuril.” 

“This is the idiot we have to worry about,” Shepard explained to Garrus. “He knows I'm alive now due to someone’s big mouth on Omega. We don't know what he's planning, but we know to stay alert. There have been reports of increased activity there since last week.” 

The prison came back into view. Miranda zoomed in on a section toward the center. “This is the high security block Jack's cryopod is in. She's uninjured, but from what we understand, she put up a hell of a fight when they locked her in. She'll come out just as enraged. Be cautious. She's highly skilled, highly dangerous.” 

“Does she know we're coming for her?” Garrus asked. 

“Unlikely,” she said thoughtfully. “I doubt they would open her cell just to tell her she was going to be released.” 

“How likely is resistance?” 

“Very. EDI knows to be on high alert if and when they attempt to commandeer the ship.” She glanced at each of them and added, “I don't want to have to leave you behind...” 

“S'right, sweetheart. We'll make it quick,” vowed Zaeed. 

Miranda's eyes narrowed, displeased with his familiar tone but said nothing of it. 

They each left the room after being certain the risks were made clear. Garrus followed Shepard into the armory. 

“Hey,” he said, stopping her before she could leave the room. “Is everything alright?” 

Her eyes darted to the far corner where Jacob was soldering something at his workstation. Slowly, she looked back up at Garrus, eyebrows curled in. She was trying to say more with her expression than she could out loud. 

“Things could be better….” 

“As usual,” he replied quietly. 

“Some other time?” 

He knew she was asking to hold off on more than just this topic. Nodding, he let her leave the room alone, not wanting to intrude any further. 

Though it wasn’t pressing, Garrus understood the needed to talk at some point. He dreaded it, as he was sure she did, because of the implications. There was some hope that they would be able to continue on exactly as they were, before everything started to crumble. The red fissure that ripped down the center of her back edged back into his mind. Her scars were a reminder of more than just her resurrection. 

\--

Back in the batteries, Garrus was calibrating one of the countless algorithms for the Javelin when he got a ping on his omnitool. It was a message from Miranda with an attachment. 

_She's been combing the back channels trying to get this to you,_ it read. _Her encryption is beautiful. I haven't watched it. Trust building exercise._

He glowered at the screen, but appreciated the sentiment. The attachment was a video message. He recognized her voice before the visuals loaded. 

“Hey, bro!” Solana, his younger sister, sang into his ear. “So it turns out that you aren't dead somewhere in a ditch. At least that's what dad said. Because you talked to him. I mean, honestly, why would you ever call me, your sister who hasn't heard a word from you in years?” The inflection at the end of her sentence held a hint of frenzy but she collected herself before getting carried away. 

“Anyways, hope you're okay. Mom is...mom is here. And if she could tell me, I know she'd say she misses you, too. I'll end the guilt trip there. Cause some trouble while you're out. You know how to reach me.” She cocked her head to the side, mischievous grin spreading across her face. With a soft note from her subvocals saying farewell, she turned off the camera. 

The video ended before he wanted it to. He played it again, this time searching the background for any clue as to where she was. As expected, Solana had prepared for this, cautious of someone able to break through the video's encryption. What little of the wall that could be seen behind her was bare and the light in the room was artificial. She was likely still on Palaven, looking after their mother at home, but she knew better than to freely provide information. Their father had instilled the need for vigilant privacy throughout their childhoods. 

Garrus took the time to send her a brief response, a simple note to let her know he had received her message and that he would be in contact with her soon. When “soon” was, he wasn't sure. Shepard wasn't the only one Garrus was keeping his story from. Solana would worry herself sick if she knew what he had been up to the past year. She didn’t need that. She had far too much to keep track of already. 

By the time he laid down to sleep that night, his guilt had built up to disgusted remorse. He couldn’t remember the last time he had greeted his mother and was not met with confusion. Her memory had all but disappeared when he last visited after leaving the Normandy. Instead of confronting his grief over this, he ignored it, and subsequently, her. 

Now, without a thought, he was on another dangerous mission with Commander Shepard. He could only use the “doing the honorable thing” line for so long. His father didn’t seem to care about that anymore. Solana certainly didn’t. And his mother...time was running short for her and Garrus wished he had not been so selfish.


	5. Chapter 5

“Purgatory, this is the SSV Normandy, requesting clearance to dock,” said Joker evenly. 

“Clearance granted,” replied a gruff voice. “Get over to dock eighteen. You have an escort waiting.” 

“Ooh, an escort. Not at all suspicious.” Joker turned his chair to face the ground team huddled in the hall just outside the airlock. “Really Garrus? You're just gonna rock that half exploded look?” 

Garrus looked down at his broken collar and frowned. He hadn't realized how bad it must look to others, especially in combination with the bandage on his face. The iridium housed in the cargo bay had helped repair his in-suit computer but the hole would have to remain until they found a turian armor depot. 

Miranda was standing just inside the cockpit, making an effort not to look worried. She was immensely conflicted about not going aboard with them. Shepard had made it clear that she wanted her to stay for security purposes. 

“It's almost like you're sending me off for my first day of school,” Shepard told the operative. “Only this is a prison...and we're carrying heavy weapons.” 

“So, it's nothing like school at all,” corrected Joker. 

“Dunno, sounds like school to me,” said Zaeed with a chuckle. 

“Kuril won't want you armed on his ship,” Miranda warned. “Expect some resistance.” 

“That's really nice for him,” said Shepard, feigning interest. “Let's move out.” 

The walk to the docking bay was short. They were met by a group of guards stationed in front of a large metal door. Some were standing behind cargo containers and metal barriers as if prepared to take cover. Almost immediately, the squad was approached by a merc and were told to relinquish their weapons. 

“Are you high? Hell no,” Shepard snarled. 

“Hand over your weapons, _now_ ,” the merc intoned. 

Shepard responded promptly by taking aim at his head with her pistol. Garrus and Zaeed followed suite. 

They had come with the understanding that the entire mission would be hostile. There was no mistaking Shepard's worth to these mercenaries. She was a legend returned from the dead who was now working with one of the most well-funded task forces in the galaxy. Jack was also Warden Kuril's most profitable inmate. Despite the large sum Cerberus was dumping on them for her release, losing her would cost him an investment. Confrontation was highly expected. 

The doors ahead of them opened and a turian in Blue Suns regalia approached. It was the warden. He was significantly older than Garrus, tall and walked with the confidence of a man with more power than he knew what to do with. Garrus noted the lack of tribal markings on his face. He wasn't one to judge based on this, but their absence didn't bode well given the circumstances. 

“Stand down, men,” Kuril called to the mercenaries in front of him. “I apologize, Commander Shepard. Security here must be especially tight. Your weapons will be returned to you once you have Jack in your possession.” 

“No, I really don't think that's going to happen,” concluded Shepard. The point of her gun never wavered. 

Kuril stood silently for a moment, obviously weighing his options. Making what Garrus felt was an idiotic decision on his part, he agreed, mentioning the squad wouldn't be much of a threat anyway. Their group followed him into the next room, which lead into the maximum security wing. He took a few moments to give them a tour and also answer any questions they had about the facility. 

In tiny cells and ushered around by guards were prisoners in grungy orange suits, dejected looks on every one of their faces. Their appearance was in stark contrast to the men in shining blue armor that stood watch every twenty feet or so. There really were far too many guards for this ship. 

Garrus' first instincts about the warden seemed correct, a fact made apparent the longer the older turian spoke. The man was arrogant, which made him delusional. He seemed to believe what they were doing at the prison was anything but barbaric. Several prisoners were being restrained in some sort of kinetic bubble. The energy was being draw from pillars that lined the halls and communal areas. A small group of Blue Suns were standing over a convict being held upside down in this electric statis. He was squirming in agony but the guards just stood and stared. 

He was sure Shepard wanted to say something. Her fists were clenched and a frown had curved her brows inward but her mouth stayed shut. Miranda had heavily discouraged criticizing anything they saw aboard unless directly asked about it. They were to avoid confrontation, even if it was inevitable. 

“Have there been any escape attempts?” Garrus asked. 

“We're in space,” said Kuril. “They have nowhere to go and they know it. Still, they are dangerous. We have ways of keeping them under control.” 

Zaeed gave Garrus an incredulous look behind the warden's back. At least, that's what it looked like. It was hard to tell with all the scarring on his face. Garrus wondered fleetingly if he looked half as difficult to read with the bandage on his mandible. 

“Continue on to out-processing down the hall. When Cerberus' funds clear, you can have Jack and go.” Kuril gave Shepard a lingering glare before walking back toward the dock. She matched his gaze, unblinking. 

“Anybody else get a Saren-y vibe from that guy?” she asked after the hall door closed behind him. 

“Yep,” said Garrus. 

“Definitely can't trust him, can we?” 

“Nope,” Garrus and Zaeed said as one. 

“Cool, as long as we're all on the same page.” 

They walked past a few more high security cells. None of the inmates looked healthy. The vast majority had a layer of grime on their suits. Their rooms were small and had few rounded edges. Garrus felt there probably weren’t many changes since its redesign from an arkship to a prison. 

The guards watched them unabashed as they passed each cell. Several had their hands to their ears, listening to instructions from an unknown source. 

Shepard gestured for Zaeed and Garrus to walk closer to her as they neared out-processing. “This isn't looking good. We might have to change our plan a bit. Thoughts?” 

“He's probably going to send every goddamn guard on this ship after us if we try to leave,” Zaeed said, waving his hand around. “What they lack in intelligence, they make up for in sheer number.” 

“There's no way we're getting out of here without shooting someone,” said Garrus. 

“Think we can limit it to just the warden?” she inquired with a grin. 

“Doubtful.” 

“Alright, just stay close. I'll let Miranda know we're going to be a while.” 

She contacted the Normandy just before walking into the out-processing wing. It was empty save for a few desks and one technician tapping away at a console to their left. In the back was a closed door. They were instructed to head there to wait for Jack. The squad took a careful look around as they made their way toward the back of the room. 

“I'm putting the ship on a soft lockdown, then,” said Miranda in their ears. “Be careful.” 

“The walls are solid metal,” said Zaeed quietly. “Be aware of shrapnel.” 

“Guards are standing watch.” Garrus was taking up the rear. Behind them, a couple Blue Suns were stationed outside the door. The technician at the console had slipped out. 

“Shepard, the room behind those doors is similar in volume to the other cells aboard Purgatory,” came EDI’s cautious voice. “I do not advise entering.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Shepard muttered as she pushed in the pressure plate on the door. 

Sure enough, the doors opened, revealing a small cell. The three of them immediately extracted the weapons from their holsters. 

“Here we go,” Shepard said with a deep breath. 

Kuril's voice crackled over the intercom. “Sorry, Shepard, you're more valuable to me here. Drop your weapons and go inside. You will not be harmed.” 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

Shepard swung around to face the door and shot off a round at the charging mercs. Several dropped to the floor and writhed from the pain. She dove into cover next to Garrus to avoid the return fire. 

The mercs weren't very well trained. Guarding helpless inmates made them overconfident in their abilities. Many of them stood right in the doorway as they rained bullets on the Normandy crew haphazardly. This created a bottleneck, so Shepard had an easy time of taking them out with shockwaves. Most of them fell to concussive shots alone, to Zaeed’s immense amusement. 

The metal walls proved to be an asset to them rather than a hinderance. As ammo from the mercs bounced off them, the noise level in the room increased, making it difficult to hear commands from Kuril. Shepard’s squad was organized enough to not need to talk much. She did her usual crowd control, steering the men in blue into tight packs and allowing Zaeed to take out whole groups with his assault rifle. Garrus backed up with precision shots on stragglers and those smart enough to take cover away from the others. 

FENRIS mechs were sent out as a distraction. Shepard took them down in the doorway and Garrus sent a self-destruct signal from his omnitool. Bodies that were in the way exploded with them, showering the room in metal and pieces of flesh. 

Three mercs were left after this, but they promptly left, shouting for backup. The squad stepped out from cover and surveyed the room for any enemies left lingering. Zaeed took care to end the lives of those still writhing on the ground. 

“Shepard, do you read me?” Miranda called into their comms. 

“I'm here, what's the situation?” 

“We're still docked but a few guards tried to board the ship. They're taken care. What's going on?” 

Shepard carefully picked her way around the body parts and walked into the hall. It was empty, but they could hear the prisoners in their cells yelling and pounding on the walls. If most of the guards had left their stations, the inmates knew something was up. They were beginning to get rowdy. 

“Chaos,” she said. “Keep the Normandy locked down. I'll keep you updated.” 

Behind the next door, the tech from out-processing began shooting blindly at them. He was contacting more guards at the same time, but before he could complete his sentence, Shepard drew up her biotics all around her and charged, sending him flying into the glass window behind him. He didn't move once he hit the floor. 

Garrus raised his browplates at her, questioning her need for such force. 

“Eh, he's just napping.” 

She nudged the orderly with her foot. His head lolled to the side. Though Garrus could see that he was still breathing, it was very likely that he had suffered brain damage from the impact. 

Below, on a dais guarded by several YMIR mechs, was the cryopod Jack was inside. Shepard approached the control console and started tapping on the screen. 

“So, knocking that guy out may have been...a bad idea,” she said slowly. “There's a passcode to unlock the tank, which he probably had.” 

“You telling me you can't hack a security system anymore?” asked Garrus. 

Shepard gave him a sarcastic smile. “No, I can, but if I do, the rest of the cells on this block get opened, too. Unless you want to sit here for half an hour while I work out the firewall.” 

“Commander, I can attempt a bypass as well,” EDI announced into their comms. “My scans show it would take two minutes and eighteen seconds.” 

“Still too long. Just get on with it,” said Zaeed. He extracted his shotgun from the slot on his back and began programming in incendiary rounds. 

Shepard tapped on the haptic keyboard a few times, did a few complicated hand gestures and the locks on the cell hissed open. Bright red lights lit the room and an alarm sounded, alerting the station that all cells in the high security wing were open. 

The cryostasis pod rose from the dais and opened. Icy fog burst out, revealing a rather thin, bald woman with restraints around her neck and wrists. Garrus thought for a moment the Blue Suns had put her inside completely naked, but then saw the leather pants and jacket tied around her waist. Across her breasts she wore only straps that met at a collar around her neck. A sympathy shiver shuddered through him and came out a little in his subvocals. Turians hated the cold. 

Jack awoke immediately, in time to see the YMIR mechs unpacking themselves and preparing to attack her. She wrenched herself from the restraints and charged the mechs, a biotic ball forming in her hand. The collision shook the upper deck, erupting the window and spraying the squad with glass and plastic. 

They rushed out the next door and down the ramp to Jack's cell. Inside, they found what was left of the YMIR mechs and a massive hole in the metal wall on the other side of the room. Jack was nowhere to be found. 

“Holy shit,” Zaeed grunted. He bent down to look at one the destructed mechs. There was a cavity in it about a foot in diameter that went straight through. 

“We have to find her,” said Shepard hurriedly. 

They ran through the hole and through a utility hall. Electricity sparked from tubing and wires that had been tore from their cases. The crew passed fallen mechanics as they hurriedly picked their way through the debris Jack had left behind. 

Kuril’s frantic screams echoed in the next open area. He was ordering the mercs to get the prisoners back in their cells, restrain Jack and find Shepard. No one was listening to him in the uproar. Inmates were dashing around, collecting weapons from fallen guards and shooting anything getting in their way. The few men in blue Jack had left alive were running for the evac terminals. They would rather abandon the ship than stay to confront her and Garrus didn’t blame them. 

“You sure you want her aboard?” he asked Shepard. They had just past a guard whose helmet had been punched into his skull. 

“I don't plan to treat her like they did here. Hopefully, that'll be enough for her.” 

Garrus watched Shepard's face. She was determined to find Jack, but she was showing signs of discouragement. 

They spent the next half hour gunning down Blue Suns and prisoners trying to escape the facility. It was easy pickings as the mercs were poorly trained and the prisoners lightly armored at best. However, their numbers seemed endless. Combined with having to jump over the ship's wreckage and trying to catch up with Jack, the squad grew tired. Zaeed gave several “bloody hells” as they clamored over the metal rubble and contorted bodies. 

Finally, they reached the wing closest to the docking bay, but Kuril had shut all the exits. A kinetic field was surrounding him where he was barking orders and making ludicrous claims about his superiority. The energy produced a brilliant light, washing the room in white flashes that mixed with the red alert glare still going off. It would have been beautiful if Garrus could actually see anything. He had to rely on his visor to given him Kuril’s location. He was stationed atop some overturned containers, rifle scope trained on Kuril’s position, waiting for Shepard to take down the kinetic pillars. Zaeed was on the platform below them, taking out mercs that were rushing in from the other wings. 

“So I thought this guy just had a shitty attitude, but he's fucking insane,” Shepard said into their comms. She was recalibrating her gun with cryoammo from cover. 

“There's a legend that turian kids are told called Monestro the Destroyer,” he called back to her. “Monestro had kinetic powers and used them to fight off rebel attacks.” 

“Was he a good guy or a bad guy?” 

“Monestro the _Destroyer_ , Shepard.” 

“I’ve destroyed things, doesn’t make me a bad guy,” she quipped. 

“This is a story dating back to the Unification War. Things were a lot more black and white back then.” 

“So what you're saying is Kuril was like one of those kids who figured out Santa isn't real way too late in life?” 

“I don't know what a Santa is, but yeah, sure.” 

“Hail storm coming!” Shepard called. “Watch your eyes.” 

She took a few shots at the nearest tower. Its energy unit burst apart, ending the beam of light arching into the bubble the warden had formed around himself. The next two went down just as easily. Kuril’s force field disappeared but he was still shouting and posturing as if he were invincible. Garrus couldn't get a clean shot as he was moving in and out of range. 

“Get him to hold still,” he said into the comm. 

“Sure, lemme just hold him down for you,” Zaeed growled sarcastically. 

“Hold on, let me try.” Shepard ran across the room to the warden's position, keeping her head low. A purple veil engulfed her and she charged his podium. The platform shook and Kuril staggered backward. To keep him pushed back, she had to bounce in and out of cover while firing on him but the guards were able to fire on her whenever she took aim. Her shields began to flicker away. 

Her effort was working, though. Kuril was backing away from her, coming into better view. Garrus took a deep breath and took aim at the other turian's head. As he exhaled, he fired. The concussive shot hit cleanly just above his left browplate. Kuril crumpled, his insane monologue ending abruptly. 

Shepard took care of the rest of the guards as Zaeed climbed up to make sure Kuril was down for good. Garrus extracted himself from his cover and hurried to meet them when the room was clear. In the distance, prisoners could be heard chanting and pounding on the walls. Purgatory was no longer a stronghold. 

Their squad was exhausted. Zaeed was bent over double, puffing hoarsely, trying to catch his breath. Garrus had no recent injuries but his face was blazing with pain. He could feel his bandage sagging from running around so much and the blood weighing it down. 

Shepard wasn't looking good. She had taken several shots to the abdomen when her shields fell and was examining the holes in her armor. There was blood on her gloves. He also noticed that the scarring on her face was far more prominent now. The flesh underneath glowed a hot red. For a moment, he thought he saw the red gleam in her eyes as well. 

“Shepard--” he began but stopped when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Above him, he saw Jack running through the cell block hall toward the escape pods, flinging guards out of her way in the process. “There she is! Hurry!” 

The other two groaned but raced off again. The docking bay doors were in lockdown mode so Shepard had to take a moment to hack them open again. On the other side they could hear Jack attacking more guards. 

“I swear to God if she gets away...” Zaeed growled, spitting out a mouthful of phlegm. 

The door flew open. Shepard ducked to get through it faster, her gun aimed directly at Jack. 

“What are you do--” 

Shepard had already started shooting. Garrus caught up with her to find Jack unharmed but a merc was behind her, a fresh bullet hole smoking in his helmet. 

Jack was small. She was slimmer than Shepard, even. The intricate system of tattoos all over her body had given the illusion of more defined curves and muscles when they first saw her rising out of her cell. Her huge brown eyes made her appear quite young, but there were signs of age in the creases on her forehead. Garrus was immediately reminded of Mierin, the asari in Archangel’s crew; young and tiny but deceptively dangerous. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Jack demanded. 

“I‘m Commander Shepard. Came to get you off this ship.” 

“Fuck you, I'm not going anywhere with Cerberus.” Jack pointed her still glowing finger out the window where the Normandy was docked. 

With a heavy sigh, Shepard put her face in her hands, ignoring the trail of blood she was leaving behind. Her patience had long since been lost. “You have no where to go. Either you come with us or you get left to fend for yourself.” 

Jack glared at her, silent but fuming. Garrus could see she was determined to defy them as much as possible. 

“We could just knock her out,” he mused. 

Her eyes grew dark. “I dare you, birdman.” 

“We might have to,” said Shepard lightly, as if this option was more appealing to her. 

“Over my dead body....”Jack began. She thought for a moment then pulled her arm back, the purple glow disappearing. “If I'm coming with you, I want something out of this deal.” 

“What is it?” 

“That ship has Cerberus databases on it, right? I want a look at them. See what they have on me.” 

Shepard shrugged. “No problem.” 

Jack seemed surprised that she wasn't protesting. “You better be serious.” 

“I am. You'll have full access. Can we go now?” Shepard was giving her one last chance to refuse. If Jack wasn't going to be reasonable, they had a problem. 

Giving them a swift nod, Jack gestured toward the loading bay door. “Let’s get the fuck off this shithole.” 

“Gladly.” 

Shepard took the lead into the pathway up to the Normandy's airlock. Garrus had to walk swiftly to catch up with her. Her expression was pained and her hand was over one of the holes in her suit. 

“You alright?” he asked in a low voice. He knew she didn't want Jack seeing her injured and tried not to draw attention to it. 

“I'll be fine,” she grunted. “Miranda, you there?” 

“Yes.” 

“We're coming aboard, take the ship off lock down. We have to hurry, Purgatory isn't going to stay stable for long.” 

“Fine.” Miranda's voice was curt. She had overheard the conversation with Jack. 

Garrus didn't know if Shepard had the authority to offer the convict Cerberus' information, but he doubted she was going to let chain of command stop her. 

In the airlock, Shepard began unlatching her chest plate. Garrus helped her out of it while the room's pressure adjusted. 

“Shit,” she murmured. Only one shot made it through her armor but the lower half of her undersuit was soaked in blood. “Tell Miranda I'll meet her in the war room after I get this looked at.” 

They didn't need to as Miranda was standing in front of them when the door opened on to the ship. Her arms were crossed and she looked as though she was prepared to start a shouting match. One look at Shepard covered in blood and her expression completely changed. 

She pressed her finger to her ear. “Dr. Chakwas, be prepared to attend to a severe gunshot wound.” 

“It's really not that bad.” Shepard pushed passed her and headed for the elevator. 

Everyone followed her closely through the CIC except Jack. She was trailing behind them, taking in the room. Several members of the crew were staring openly at her. Joker gaped from the cockpit, half horrified, half enamored. There hadn't been much intel on her to begin with, but no one was expecting a half naked bald woman covered up to her crown in tattoos to come out of Purgatory with them. 

Zaeed stayed back when the elevator doors opened. “It'll be too cramped. I'll look after the little hellraiser.” He pointed his thumb back at Jack. She was entertaining herself by scaring Kelly who had made the mistake of introducing herself. 

It still felt crowded with just the three of them in the lift. The scent of human blood and sweat rose into Garrus' nostrils. Miranda was feverishly scanning the commander with her omnitool. Shepard's face was losing color though her eyes were bright and focused. She was trying to stop herself from passing out. 

Everyone rushed out on the next floor. Shepard nearly fell forward trying to walk on her own, but she refused Garrus' shoulder when he offered it to her. Impatiently, he pulled her arm over his neck and half carried her the rest of the way to the medbay. 

“This is new,” she said thickly. “Usually, I'm dragging you to safety.” 

“Figured I'd make myself useful.” 

He hurried her through the doors and on to the table that had been prepared for their arrival. Chakwas immediately began scanning her body. An assistant unlatched the rest of her armor. 

“How did you like your first day back in action with me?” she asked. 

“Well,” he began, making an effort to sound as relaxed as possible. “I can't say I was surprised. Nothing is easy with you, is it?” 

She laughed, but cried out from the pain in her abdomen. Garrus drew closer to the table. 

“I'm gonna be fine. I feel like after all the work Miranda put into bringing me back, dying from something like this is just insulting." 

Miranda was just inside the door, watching the situation unfold. It looked as though she was trying very hard not to push Chakwas out of the way and fix Shepard herself. 

Chakwas gave Shepard a minor sedative and allowed her assistant to stitch her up. 

Shepard turned to Garrus and said, “Your face is bleeding, Vakarian.” 

Chakwas approached him and gestured to a chair nearby. “Have a seat, Garrus. I need to look at your wound.” 

“It can wai—AH!” Chakwas had snatched the bandage from his face with surprising speed. She held it up to his face to look at. It was soaked through with dark blue blood and some patches of yellow pus. 

“If you leave it much longer it could fester, now sit,” the doctor said sharply. Garrus promptly sat down. 

Chakwas went to work cleaning his wound and applying a heavy coating of medigel. A tingling sensation replaced the pain that made him want to scratch his face but he resisted long enough for it to start to numb. Finally, she fitted a new bandage and stood back to look at her work. 

“Still ugly,” Shepard slurred. He assumed the sedative had kicked in. 

“Both of you are going to rest for the next few days, and that is a direct order.” Chakwas tapped for a while on a datapad from her desk and handed it to Miranda. “Her cybernetics haven't been disturbed, but feel free to look over her yourself.” 

“Everything's fine,” said Miranda as she looked over the data. She looked up at Shepard and frowned. “When you're feeling...sober, meet me in the war room to have a discussion with Jack.” 

“She's pretty mad at me, huh?” Shepard said in a loud, slurred whisper once Miranda had left the room. 

Garrus attempted a smile. “You're just a lot to get used to. She'll figure it out soon.” 

Shepard slid off the table when her stitches were in place. She stood in her tank top and shorts for moment, trying to steady herself on her feet. Her dark brown skin was shiny with sweat and her hair was sticking to her face where it was dampest. 

“I'm gonna go nap for a while. Sleep this off.” She stumbled over to Garrus and placed a hand on his armored shoulder. “I'm glad we're killing shit together again.” 

“Me too, Shepard.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: sexual assault mentioned, not described

The two lovers had made no noise, their voices lost in each other’s mouths. Blue legs wrapped around a tan torso. Small hands gasping at blond hair... 

Garrus’ heart had finally settled after the shock he received from seeing two of his crew members entwined against a pillar just beyond the back door and almost being blasted in the face with a biotic ball because of it. 

The orange blood of the batarian slaver Kron Harga was still dripping from the butt of his rifle. Hoping to clean up and get some rest after killing the man, Garrus had walked in on Mierin and Monteague's persistent lovemaking by mistake. He had planned to enter through the back to avoid waking anyone up. Shock and a little curiosity froze him in place when the door opened on the two grasping at each other’s muscular forms. Mierin instinctively tried to throw Garrus with her biotics when she saw him standing in the doorway. Garrus managed to dodge it before being tossed backward down the stairs, but slid down a few in the process. He allowed them a moment to collect themselves -- and their clothing -- before peeking over the threshold. 

“Is it safe?” he asked amusedly. 

Mierin held the air of a girl who hadn’t just been caught with her jumpsuit around her ankles, her nose lifted into the air. “Safe as ever. We were on watch. You surprised me, is all.” 

Garrus sauntered up the rest of the stairs and into the base. The emergency light in the corner was glaring right into his visor. His headache from the fight with Harga was threatening to tear a fissure in his skull. Monteague noticed how haggard he looked and offered to take his rifle from him. The turian waved him off but offered him a datapad instead. 

“Harga’s account codes are on there. Clear them, he’s not going to be needing the credits.” 

“Finally got him,” Monteague said, enthused. “Any word about the slaves?” 

“A few were in the warehouse when I got there, but most had been sent back to Khar’shan this morning. Ripper’s been working on tracking down the ship.” 

Mierrin looked past him to the open door, her expression thoughtful. “I should go make sure the ones left behind are feeling secure.” 

“They’ll be fine for the night,” said Garrus. “A few were from Omega so I expect they just went home. I’ll send Melanis over to the safe house tomorrow to check up on the rest. Besides, wouldn’t want to cut into your...alone time.” 

Monteagues’ cheeks went bright red but he smiled despite his embarrassment. “Sorry about that, boss. It’s be a rough week. Just trying to let off a bit of steam.” 

Garrus raised his brow plates. “You think you can do that without exchanging body fluids?” 

“You make it sound so easy. Have you seen this body?” He made a huge gesture with both arms in front of Mierin as if presenting a queen. She rolled her eyes but it was obvious that she loved the compliment. 

Mierin did have an incredibly athletic form. She had been trained as a performance contortionist early in life, coming from a long line of asari entertainers. Next to her partner, a rather frumpy mechanic with stubble and grease stains on his work coat, she certainly looked like a goddess. Garrus always wondered how the two had gotten together but they liked to leave it a mystery, which probably meant they met doing something incredibly mundane. 

“Perhaps you should be letting off some steam, too, sir,” the asari said with devilish grin. “And don’t you even try to tell me saving the innocent is all the stress relief you need.” 

Monteague nudged her. “Hey, maybe we can convince him to finally take up Mel’s offer, eh?” 

Garrus put his hand to his face, feigning disgust. Melanis was somewhere between twenty and eighty years his senior; it was nearly impossible to tell a turian woman’s age after a certain point. He was sure all of her offers to show him the time of his life were only meant in jest, though. 

He said goodnight to the couple and went up the stairs to the next level and to the left where his bed was. The crew had insisted that their leader should have their own room. It was actually a storage area with no door and a singular light that flickered occasionally. One of the crew -- probably Ripper or Melanis -- had placed a sheet over the entrance to allow him some privacy. 

For the first time in a very long time, Garrus unlatched the upper portion of his gear and set all the pieces into the far corner of the room. He flexed the muscles in his arms and back to loosen them. The chill in the room slipped between his plating, sending a gentle shudder through his spine. His bed called him, insisting that he could clean up when he awoke the next day. He slipped delicately on to the sheets and closed his eyes. 

Typically, he only slept without his armor on very special occasions or when he was sharing his bed with someone else. There was nothing exceptional about this night, though, beyond the stifling loneliness that had plagued him for over a year. Seeing Mierin and Monteague coiled around one another reminded him that while he was surrounded by friends, the sensation of another’s touch could not be replaced with kind words and smiles. 

He didn’t actually want a sexual partner; just entertaining the idea made his headache worse. However, there were few pleasures like having someone else’s skin to brush against. It didn’t help that the last fingers that had slid across his bare palm belonged to a woman that was now dead. 

Shepard’s eyes had begun to drift from his every quiet moment. Garrus was allowed to focus more on their mission now that her memory wasn’t constantly threatening to render him catatonic. But her smile reared again as he lay half naked on his bed. It wasn’t as terrifying as it had once been and was accompanied by her bright, welcoming eyes. Exhaustion and the company her pleasant expression made it easy to sleep soundly. 

*** 

Mierin's transport had gone smoothly. Garrus got word from her mother on Thessia that her body had arrived intact and that her extended maternal side had come to carry her casket on their shoulders to a reserved plot in the family mausoleum. She sent pictures of the memorial where dark blue asari danced in the moonlight, tears of joy and mourning streaming down their faces.

The cargo ship that held Monteague was held up in orbit while Shanxi sorted out some trade embargoes with turian merchants. The frustrated captain threatened to launch the coffin directly into the planet to get it off his ship and was promptly arrested. Authorities searched the vessel and found several tons of red sand mixed in with the other merchandise and Monteague's body was taken into custody as evidence of illegal smuggling. Jacob promised to help get the situation sorted it out but the Normandy’s considerable distance from the matter would hinder Cerberus' influence. Garrus could only hope for the best. He pushed the young man out of his mind, trying to focus on the other team members that needed homes. 

While trying to reach the damnably stubborn batarian officials on Khar'shan, Garrus heard his console ping. EDI's voice followed. 

“Garrus, Miranda would like to speak to you. Are you available?” 

“I am,” he said after a short pause. He gave his face a quick rub before standing up from his cot. “Her office?” 

“Yes.” 

He stood and walked toward the door, but noticed EDI hadn’t cut the communication. She was waiting for something. 

“Is that all?” he asked. 

"Did you notice, Garrus? I did not call you 'sir' or 'officer', as you requested.” 

Garrus chuckled softly. “I did, EDI, thanks.” 

“You're welcome, Garrus.” Her pleased toned eased away as she ended the call. 

He was beginning to truly appreciate EDI's presence. She could be intrusive at times, but quickly learned when told directly what made him uncomfortable. Her help was always of great use when testing firing patterns and she could calculate distances and energy production in seconds. 

He walked to Miranda's office and pressed in the pressure plate on her door. She was standing at the window, one hand resting on the sill, the other grasping a datapad. 

“You rang?” he asked. 

She nodded and gestured for him to come through the doorway. Garrus stepped in and sat in the chair across from her desk. He tried to appear as relaxed as possible, but conversations with Miranda made him feel uncomfortable. Whenever he was invited into her office, he felt a tinge of fear, childishly certain she would be reprimanding him for something. 

Their conversations were mostly professional, though. She often wanted to keep him and everyone else on the crew updated about their mission. Garrus assumed Shepard's squads got more in depth briefings, which were always done face to face to alleviate any miscommunications. A meeting outline would be sent out afterward for reference and a mission debrief was required within 24 hours after returning to the ship. Joker called this “anal retention in triplicate”. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that Shepard hasn’t been as present, lately,” Miranda said, still facing the window. “We had a discussion the other night about Jack’s lack of discretion regarding her search through the Cerberus network.” 

Garrus wasn't sure how to respond so he remained silent. He had heard bits and pieces of their argument through the walls but tried his best to ignore it. Now that he thought about it, though, Shepard had been conspicuously absent during the last few meals. He had figured she was still taking time to recover her gunshot wound. 

“Shepard came up here to ask me about what I knew of Jack’s past after speaking with her. I had no prior knowledge, but I was tracking Jack’s search terms and any information she was collecting for security purposes.” Miranda looked down at the datapad in her hand and then turned, offering it to Garrus. “It's all in here, but I can give you the gist of it. Jack was the primary subject at a Cerberus funded institution for biotics testing. She was tortured, for the most part. The Illusive Man holds no responsibility for her treatment, but...it happened.” 

He looked down at the datapad. There were a few logs about a “Subject Zero”, mostly test results with encoded titles and numbers. A very obvious “Cease and Desist” letter jumped out in plain text amongst the science babble. It came directly from the Illusive Man who was withdrawing funding immediately and ordered the facility destroyed. There was no other acknowledgment from him after this and the experiments went on, though at a slower rate. 

“Has Shepard seen this?” 

“She didn't need to, but I've sent her the data,” Miranda replied. She looked tired, her typically perfect composure affected by her duties. 

“Jack told her.” 

“With limited detail. The conversation started when Shepard asked her why Kuril had her put in cryostasis.” Miranda’s eyes shut, then, concentrating on keeping her composure. She said, finally, “A group of prisoners raped her. Guards were involved as well.” 

Garrus froze, stunned. He now understood why there had been so little information about her imprisonment. Like Jack, many of the gifted inmates had their freedom paid for but the vast majority were tortured for their crimes or forced to work as mercenaries. Kuril would have destroyed any documentation of Jack’s assault, if any had existed, to protect his investments. She would have been seen as damaged goods and all other potential buyers would question the quality of their products. Garrus suddenly felt that his efforts to stem the flow of Purgatory recruits from Omega had been pointless. Destroying the whole crime ring would have been more efficient. 

“Jack killed all of them when she recovered,” Miranda went on. “Kuril put her in the tank to protect the rest of the facility.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

Miranda looked up at him with a thoughtful frown. She paused for a moment, thinking. 

“How much do you know of Shepard's past?” she asked carefully. “Before she joined the Alliance.” 

“A little, but probably not more than you would.” When Miranda urged him on, he continued. “Minor delinquent charges and misdemeanors. Showed a pattern.” 

“She was homeless,” said Miranda flatly. “Involved in street gangs, petty crime.” 

Garrus inclined his head once, hoping his discomfort about the topic would show and they could move passed it. He had an idea of where she was leading the conversation, but hoped he was wrong. There was a reason Shepard kept her past relatively private. 

Miranda typed a few keys on the board at her console and then turned the screen to him. A news article from Earth was displayed on it. It was dated November 8, 2159. “Research Facility Raided; Children Caught in Resulting Political Hailstorm” read the title. The photo underneath this showed four human children huddled in the corner of a bleached white room. Bright yellow light was shining down on them, perhaps from a flashlight or a shuttle headlight. A fifth child was standing away from the group and looked as though she were screaming at the top of her lungs, huge tears pouring out of her eyes. A faint purple glow was emitting out of her fists. 

Familiarity sprouted in his chest. Garrus drew backward, horrified at what he was seeing. “Is that—is that Shepard?” 

The longer he looked, the more he recognized her. There was no mistaking those huge pools of amber that stood out like radiation flare. They had haunted him for years. Tight, dark brown ringlets fell over her face and across her shoulders as she howled at the camera operator and whoever was behind them. Even her posture was familiar; hands clenched at her sides, standing on her toes, making herself look as big as she possibly could. 

“I think it is,” said Miranda. “Shepard's criminal record started in 2168 in Alberta after an eezo container burst open in a shipyard so I just researched backward for any information about children with biotic abilities in the area. This story jumped out.” 

“What is this about?” The text of the article wasn't optimized for a quick translator decipher. 

“She was a test subject at a genetic experimentation facility,” said Miranda. “Everything about the project was wiped. Cerberus has no information about it aside for the name of the lead researcher, Isaiah Vasqualen. He was jailed for life after the raid.” 

“What happened to the kids?” 

Miranda's shoulders fell a little. “I'm not sure. The article says they were taken into government custody as there was no information about their parents. There are no other news stories about them.” 

Garrus felt his heart sink. He looked away from the article and turned his eyes to his feet. This was too much information all at once, but he felt a little foolish for being so shocked about it. Shepard had a dark past, he knew, but it was something he had tried not to give much thought to. She spoke about her involvement with the Tenth Street Reds sparingly and with little enthusiasm, but she never talked about her life before then. If she had gone through the tortures Jack had, she may have blocked it out completely. 

He remembered that Miranda was still eying him. Garrus looked up at her and asked, “Why did you show me this?” 

“Shepard is unique, something the whole galaxy knows. The Illusive Man has been keeping an eye on her since the battle at the Citadel. But I’ve suspected for some time that his interest in Shepard goes beyond her military record. I’m sure you’ve noticed how much the Lazarus cell has been manipulated to maintain Shepard’s cooperation.” 

Garrus thought back to all the datapads on Shepard’s desk and the one that held the information about Archangel. If Cerberus could find all that intel about their base location and raid reports, they could have figured out his true identity. 

“He’s purposefully withholding information from her,” Garrus said slowly. 

Miranda nodded. “From the very beginning. I won’t lie, I’ve been a part of it. Very few members of the crew have been with Cerberus for more than a year and I hired them for this mission for that specific reason. We didn’t want her to think she was being surrounded by the enemy.” 

“You thought manipulating her was the best way to gain her trust?” 

“Yes,” she said with no uncertainty. “In that instance in the very least it was the best decision. Shepard made it very clear she hated Cerberus.” 

Before she died, Shepard never passed up the opportunity to choke off one of Cerberus’ research facilities for Hackett, especially after what happened to Kahoku. Cerberus had always been the enemy...and then they weren’t. They had a common goal and had employed some of her most trusted colleagues and friends. The Illusive Man had made it so that, even if she wanted to, she couldn’t back out. There was too much at stake. 

Garrus ventured to look back at the article on Miranda’s console. Shepard’s eyes trapped him again, as they always had. They were red around the rims. Her tears looked as though they were boiling out of her face. Was she in pain or just enraged? Who was she screaming at? 

Was she surrounded by enemies? 

“You think Cerberus did this.” 

“I think _Shepard_ thinks Cerberus did this,” Miranda corrected. “It would explain why she is taking the tortures Jack went through at Teltin so personally. And, honestly, I’m not convinced the two aren’t related.” 

She sat in the chair by the window and clasped her hands together. “Which makes what I’m about ask you very difficult. I need -- want you to speak to the commander about this.” 

Garrus’ arms went limp. “What?” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how invasive this is? Shepard’s never told anyone about this.” 

“I know.” 

“You want me to bring up what could have been one of the most horrifying experiences in her life on the off chance that she will be perfectly comfortable discussing it with me?” 

“You, Garrus, are probably the only person aboard this ship Shepard trusts completely, you must see that,” Miranda said quietly, her gaze intense. “You’re the only person from the SR1 here who didn’t join Cerberus. She brought you here and she knows the only reason why you’ve stayed is because you trust her, too. You, of anyone, would be able to talk about this with her.” 

“I don’t want to lose that trust. I’ve already invaded too much of her privacy just seeing this,” he said, pointing to the article. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with the information? Am I supposed to report back to you? Is her emotional state a hindrance to the mission? Something that you need to keep in check?” 

The remark was intended to offend and it had done its job. Miranda’s eyes grew dark as they narrowed, shooting daggers into him. 

“If Cerberus was involved in Shepard’s childhood,” she said, trying to hide the anger in her tone, “we must consider the larger implications of this whole mission. This all implies a level of grooming that I’m not comfortable investigating until I have more information. A conversation keeps any more suspicious searches off the network. And I’m not looking to hide anything from her. You’re free to tell her how you know all this. I just think it would be best if it’s you who brings it up, not me.” 

He stared at her, bewildered at her calm tone, at her cool ability to ask him to do something like this. She thought he was too afraid Shepard would see this as a huge intrusion into her life. She would be shocked that he knew so much, sure, but she wouldn’t be too upset with him. Miranda was right. If he asked, Shepard would tell him all he wanted to know, because he knew how much she trusted him with the knowledge. 

Garrus didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to see the hurt on her brow as she talked about her experiences at the hands of those researchers, didn’t want to see her lips tighten when she remembered something too painful to speak about. Above all, he didn’t want to succumb completely to her sadness, because if she wanted him to, he’d give into her completely. He would cradle her as he had after Saren was defeated and fall, lost again in her eyes. 

He stared at Miranda blankly, showing no signs of agreement or denial. This seemed to be answer enough for her. Miranda stood up, and walked behind her desk. “I can send you a translated version of the article if you want.” 

“No, I don't need it,” he said quickly. 

He headed out of the door and went back to hiding in the batteries. Pushing the datapads out of the way, he laid down on his cot and pinched his eyes shut. 

His stomach churned, disgusted all over again by the image of little Alex Shepard screaming soundlessly in the spotlight. If he just forgot that he ever saw it, perhaps he would never have to bring it up. He wouldn’t have to watch Shepard’s confident smile ooze away into the bitter grimace that Jack maintained. She could remain the same as she always had in his mind, unchanged by the effects of war and time and death.


	7. Chapter 7

Lorek was humid. Patches of dark gray clouds floated overhead as the sky cleared up from a downpour. The Eclipse base before them, now abandoned, was gleaming in the soft sunlight. A few brightly-feathered birds were pecking at the exposed wounds of the mercs the squad had just laid to waste. 

Garrus and Jacob waited outside while Shepard searched around for more supplies. That was what she told them, anyway. Garrus knew it was so she could have a moment to sulk without eyes on her. They had arrived far too late to retrieve the Cerberus operative that this Eclipse outfit had captured. He had been tortured relentlessly and eventually succumbed to his injuries. His body had deteriorated considerably in the poorly ventilated medical chamber where he was held. 

Jacob seemed to be getting anxious as they waited for her to finish up. Garrus remained patient, though the humidity was beginning to make the skin at his collar itch and he hoped she wouldn’t be much longer. While this was his least favorite part about working with the new Shepard, he chose not to interrupt it. It was an annoyance but if this was all he had to put up with, he could manage. 

Shepard returned with her arms full. She had found two palladium containers in the back of the pre-fab, one of which she tossed to Jacob to carry back to the Normandy which was parked on the other side of the valley. 

“I'm guessing you guys didn't get to the Cerberus grunt in time?” Joker asked Garrus when they exited the airlock. When Garrus responded with just a slow shake of his head, the pilot grimaced. “Eesh. Well, ya know, have fun with that.” He slowly swiveled his chair back to face the cockpit and began preparing the ship for takeoff. 

Shepard hadn't said anything during the decontamination process and made a beeline for the elevators as soon as they stepped into the CIC. Garrus hurried to catch up with Shepard. He tried to think of something to say. Nothing was coming to mind. 

She got into the lift and turned away from the room as the doors closed. He didn't get in with her. For a long while, he stood in front of the doors feeling useless. 

He recalled again the day they were unable to save Admiral Kahoku. The swift and ruthless revenge Shepard took on the Cerberus agents on Nepheron afterward was the closest he had seen her get to losing complete control. She had refused to speak to anyone for hours afterward, but he saw her in the mess later that night, shoveling down a cold meal as if she hadn't just had a temper tantrum that left over 50 men dead. 

He remembered her face falling when the doors opened to the Cerberus operative's – Rawlings, Tyrone Rawlings was the poor man's name – torture chamber. Confirmation of an idea she already had settled into the lines around her mouth, forcing away her battle excitement. Rawling's blood dripped from the medical table where he had his final breath, a breath he most likely struggled to take based on the state of his neck. 

No, Shepard had reacted negatively to injustices such as this several times. And yet, this was different. Shepard was different. It had taken him this long to realize it. Or it had taken him this long to admit to himself. 

The Shepard he knew would have bounced back. She would have gone to the armory to check in her weapons, replace her armor in the lockers in the loading bay. Barefeet tiptoeing up to the CIC, she would have chatted with Joker before going to debrief with Hackett. Spoke with Garrus at length down by the Mako, maybe hound the requisition officer for discounts. 

This Shepard was afraid of who she had become. The same rules no longer applied when the enemy was funding the cause. Rebuilt from scraps and tech and shoved back into life because she was the perfect symbol of hope. But if perfect couldn't save a man from being tortured to death, couldn't help a woman who had been abused by her captors her whole life, what was perfect? She was internalizing every mistake, let every injustice seep into her core. It was eating away at her, leaving her defenseless. 

Garrus stewed for hours, reading over charts and datapads for his fallen Archangel squad to distract him. He was taking on too much at once, but not in the usual "I have to do everything or it won't get done" mentality Mordin often spouted. He realized he was trying to manage more emotions than one person was capable of. While trying to focus on getting next of kin to believe he wasn't a psychopath, he was working his talons into the mess that was Alex's psyche. It was impossible. But he couldn't help it. 

On the SR1, there wasn't much else to take his mind off their mission and who he was following. Looking back on that time, Garrus felt he had been childish to think things could remain that simple. The breakdown of that idealized structure was what had separated him from the commander. Their fight wasn't just about Council demands; the dream of being limitlessly effective was over and lives were at stake. Many died because they were too ignorant to see passed their own goals. This likely tore Shepard up as much as it did him. 

It was smart of Garrus to leave, but not for the reasons he had thought. He'd abandoned all other responsibilities to be with Shepard and the Normandy. When the facade cracked, he could see all the things he'd been ignoring up until then and he didn't like what that avoidance said about him. 

That night, a gentle light blinked on his counsel; an un-urgent call from Shepard's room. Garrus considered not answering. She was giving him the option not to by not just hailing him or sending EDI. He watched the light for a few moments, then answered it with blink into his visor. 

"There's a weird distress signal coming out of the Ploitari system. I asked Joker to head there. Mind coming along with me?" Shepard's voice was low and crackled, like she'd just woken up. 

"If you want me there, I'll be there," Garrus replied. 

A slow, rattling breath came from her end of the call. 

"How are you?" he asked tentatively. 

“I'll be fine.” Her words hung in the air, unsure. Perplexed by her own attitude, perhaps. 

“Will you?” 

She didn't reply. She did leave the line open, though. Waiting for Garrus to say something else or just enjoying the accompanied silence. 

Garrus thought for a moment then said, "Tell me about Rawlings." 

Alex forced a breath out of her nose, amused. "What about him?" 

"Everything." 

"What do you mean 'everything'? I didn't know him." 

"Tell me everything you know about him." 

Alex sighed. "I don't know...I have his dossier." Garrus heard the shuffling of blankets and Shepard padding around her room. A few moments later, he heard her plop back on to her mattress. 

"Let's see. Tyrone Rawlings. Twenty-three years old...." 

She continued on, listing off general details about his life. He didn't have family, a boone in his case, considering his position within Cerberus. Rawlings was an undercover agent who held the cipher to encrypted data Cerberus dearly wanted out of Eclipse hands. 

"Neither Miranda or Jacob knew him. Probably by design. The less people who knew about him the better. Didn't work out for him in the end, though." 

"What kind of data was he guarding?" Garrus asked. 

"Dossier doesn't say. It's was a 'delicate matter'..." 

Alex trailed off. There was more to say, but there was apprehension in her voice. 

"One sec, Garrus." Suddenly, the line went dead. 

Confused, Garrus tried to call her back, but she wasn't picking up. A few minutes later, the door to the batteries buzzed and Shepard's voice called from the other side, "It's me." 

Garrus opened the door. Shepard stood in a large black N7 sweatshirt that covered the tops of her legs. Her feet were bare. Her hair was in a bun on top of her head instead of behind and the bright lights in the scars on her face shone prominently. 

He felt a little self-conscious at her sudden presence. No one really visited him. The space wasn't meant for socializing. The cot he'd set up was shoved between a server panel and the railing next to the Javelin. There was one seat that was intended for an engineer to stand on to reach the wiring in the ceiling. The counsel had empty energy drink cans and candy wrappers scattered on it. 

Alex didn't seem to mind. She stepped in and closed the door with a tap on the pad on the wall. She settled into the seat and folded her muscular legs in front of her. He could tell from this position that she had shorts on under the sweater, but they weren't covering much. Shepard had come in what was essentially her pajamas. 

She looked up at him with a slight frown. "Am I intruding?" 

"No..." Garrus lied. He sat on the end of his cot to make himself look less tense. "It's your ship." 

"I'll leave if you want me to." 

"What brings you here, Shepard?" he pressed. The faster she started talking, the quicker he could get his mind off the way her skin molded around the muscles in her thighs. 

"All network communications are recorded on the ship. Miranda told me that pretty much as soon as I came in. Makes it tough to have private conversations when you know someone else is going to be listening to them at some point." 

"You don't think the rooms are bugged?" Garrus asked. Cerberus was thorough. 

"Oh, they definitely are. EDI?" Shepard addressed the room. EDI's spherical interface burst out of the counsel in front of the Javelin. 

"Commander?" 

"Ignore everything going on in this room for the next...half hour or so." 

"I'm unsure of what you mean, Commander. I'll continue disregarding all personal conversations, as you requested two months ago." EDI's reply came in her usual even tone. 

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard said, satisfied. EDI slid back into the counsel and disappeared. 

"You trust that?" Garrus asked incredulously. 

"As much as I can. Turns out AIs can have loyalty and it's easy to develop if you aren't an ass to them. Joker's still trying to figure that part out, but I'm pretty sure EDI would die for the man if she could." 

"So you have something secretive to tell me." 

"Right. Well, Rawlings had some info on Cerberus that Cerberus wants kept under wraps, specifically from the Alliance. Even more specifically, from me." Shepard's eyes shined with something like glee. She loved uncovering secrets. 

"When I went back into the pre-fab to grab the rest of the supplies, I decoded Eclipse's interrogation reports. Rawlings had a way to decrypt data about experiments Cerberus was doing on Rachni." 

Garrus' jaw fell open. Shepard bit her lip, trying not to smile. "Juicy, right?" she asked. 

"Sure, juicy," he replied slowly. "These are new experiments? Not the ones they were doing that got Kahoku killed?" 

"No clue. I want to find out though. I don't know how to do it without Cerberus finding out. If I use EDI to decrypt the data, it'll tax her systems, it'll take forever, and the Illusive Man will definitely see it." She adjusted her leg position and leaned back on her palms. "I can sit on the info for a while, but it's all I can think about. From the sound of the interrogation logs, they put Rawlings through the wringer. He died defending that cypher, Garrus." 

He let a sympathetic tone escape in his subvocals. "Cerberus prides itself on how loyal its operatives are." 

Shepard nodded fervently, her eyes wide. "It's ridiculous. The crew on the Normandy isn't quite so gunghoe about them, but every other outfit seems to be packed with Cerberus loyalist. It's almost like a cult." 

"We knew this about them, Shepard," Garrus said with a shrug. "We spent a lot of time tearing down their operations. Most of it was glued together with hopes and dreams and credits. People will do anything for a decent salary." 

"It's not just that. It can't be. I was in the military for most of my adult life. It could be argued I was made for it..." 

Garrus started at this. Shepard was proud of her service in the Alliance, always had been. There was more to her words now than just pride. 

"I was recruited young. Not _very_ young, but younger than most. Young enough that if some pacifist groups found out, the Alliance would get some heat. I don't regret signing up, though. But I signed up. I was courted pretty heavily, but it wouldn't have taken much. I was ready to get out of the situation I was in." 

Garrus began to gather where she was headed. "You don't think operatives like Rawlings were recruited?" 

Shepard nodded. "Did Miranda tell you about Jack's childhood?" 

Garrus swallowed then nodded. The topic was dangerously close to the other conversation he and Miranda had. He wasn't prepared to talk about it with Shepard yet. 

"What do you think they wanted to do with those kids once they got older?" 

"You mean if they let them get older," Garrus said carefully. 

"Right," Shepard said. "They would pick the best ones. Jack would have been one of them for sure. And when she got old enough, they'd want to make use of the investment they put into her." 

Garrus frowned. "Rawlings wasn't a biotic, though." 

"He didn't need to be. If they had gotten me early enough and if they put a ton of effort into it, the Alliance could have made me into a Rawlings. Into a Jack. Two years ago, I wasn't so loyal to them that I would have gone through what Rawlings did. But if I was younger, if I didn't know Joker or Liara or you, if I didn't have anyone but the Alliance...maybe." 

Garrus' neck grew hot. This was the first time Shepard had mentioned Liara since meeting again. The look on Shepard's face let on that she'd realized saying the asari's name caused some discomfort. 

"Don't worry about it," Garrus said, waving his hand. The tense relationship he and Liara had was a catalyst, but it didn't need to be discussed now. "So you think Cerberus might be brainwashing people, not just recruiting them, to be the perfect operative." 

"You can't say that would be beneath them. They spent several fortunes bringing me back from the dead. I'm not an accountant, but raising a kid to be unyieldingly loyal probably isn't as expensive." 

"Yeah, Shepard. I think you have the right idea. What now?" 

Shepard sighed heavily, letting her shoulders slump. "I have no idea, Garrus. I've been thinking about this for months. All these pieces keep fitting together. It's hard to wrap my brain around it all. There's so much more going on. This is what I get for working with the enemy, I suppose." 

She stood then. Tugging her sweatshirt down to cover her shorts, Shepard walked over to the door. 

"Thank you for talking with me about this. It doesn't sound as crazy out loud as I thought it would." 

Garrus stood as well. He knelt and took her hand in his. His hands engulfed hers completely. It was astonishing a woman so much smaller than him packed some much power. The scarring on her body could lead one to believe she was ready to burst with it. 

"I appreciate you talking to me, Shepard. Come back any time." He meant it. Talking with her was a relief. Even if it wasn't what they were _supposed_ to be talking about. 

He shook her hand, then let it go. Shepard looked down at it, then looked up at him and smiled mischievously. "That was...adorable. I'm going to go write in my diary about it." 

"You just have to ruin the moment, don't you?" 

When Shepard left, Garrus collapsed on to his cot. Shepard's revelation was mind blowing. If what she thought was true, Cerberus could be far more powerful than they'd originally assumed. 

But it wasn't just Cerberus. If Miranda was right, if Shepard thought Cerberus had something to do with her young childhood, Shepard would think she would have been on the track for indoctrination. To the commander, she had slipped out of Cerberus' grasp unknowingly. She saw herself in Rawlings. She saw what she could have been.


	8. Chapter 8

The preparations for Okeer's retrieval proved to be almost completely useless. The intel they had about his work on Korlus was murky, and they weren't initially prepared for the exhausting battle that would take place upon their arrival. Blue Suns mercs fought them at every turn, egged on by their mad leader, Jedore, over the loudspeaker. The battlegrounds were speckled with tank-bred krogan as well. These beings charged the squad without fear, making their progress slow. 

Jack enjoyed herself, however. She had been surprisingly eager to join Shepard and Garrus ashore. The cargo hold under engineering was her sanctuary and she never left its confines for very long. She ventured to the mess for rations but took them back with her, only communicating in grunts when she was acknowledged. Shepard had been the only one to hold an extended conversation with her so far as Jack met most queries with hostility. 

Getting out on the battlefield lit a spark in her. Garrus saw legitimate joy on her face as she helped the commander crush enemies with their combined throws and slams. They all worked well together. He followed up with concussive shots on occasion, just for show, gaining whoops from the two women. 

Okeer was the only unsurprising element about the mission. He was as ruthless and vile as his dossier let on. His connection with the Collectors made him an undesirable but necessary addition to the team. It was his research that interested Cerberus the most and the organization didn't seem to care how it was developed. It was a relief to Garrus, after they had taken down Jedore, to find that Okeer had perished before he could come aboard the Normandy. There was enough psychotic energy on the ship; his version of megalomania would not be missed. 

The warlord had left behind his great success, however. Inside a gestation tank in Okeer's lab stood a grown krogan. Like an adolescent's, the plating on the top of his head was light in color and he did not appear to have reached the full stature of an adult. Still, his build was remarkable. Garrus had never met any krogan without scars or discoloration in their hides. This tank-bred looked as though he were molded from the idea of what a krogan was supposed to look like, back before the genophage and tribal in-fighting. 

Jack and Garrus stood in front of the tank, making the unconscious decision to refrain from sudden movement. The krogan’s eyes looked back at them, empty, as they tried to figure out what the next step was. 

“Is he awake?” asked Jack. She stepped up to the glass slowly and tapped on it with her fingernail. The krogan inside didn't react. 

Shepard was at the console next to the tank, looking through Okeer’s data. “He is alive, but I don’t know if he's conscious. Look at these stats. Okeer wasn't lying. He's about as perfect as it gets.” She pressed her fingers to her ear. “Miranda, sending you data on the krogan Okeer left behind. What do you think?” 

“He is powerful, but we have no way of knowing what state he’s in,” Miranda replied. “For all we know, he could be completely belligerent.” 

“Good, I like a challenge. Send down a shuttle with enough storage space for the tank. He's pretty big.” 

Out of respect, they dragged Okeer's body to the far corner of his lab and draped a tarp over him. Jacob acknowledged that it would not be welcome back on Tuchanka so he arranged to have it lifted off world on a separate transport shuttle. Garrus assumed the body would be shot out of an airlock once out of orbit. 

“I’m going to stand watch. And get away from Mrs. Mopey over here,” said Jack, pointing her thumb at Shepard. 

The commander glowered at her, but nodded her on. Jack slipped out of the large metal door, leaving Garrus and Shepard alone with the krogan in the lab. Garrus paced the room, deliberately avoiding Shepard’s gaze. 

It had been two weeks since Miranda had introduced Garrus to the commander’s disturbing past and almost as long since their conversation about how Cerberus got its best operatives. She dismissed concerns about her state of mind and went on with her duties like nothing about her sudden loss of appetite for food was out of the ordinary. The commander only seemed herself when there were enemies to hunt down, battle excitement vanishing as soon as Jedore was killed. Even now, Garrus could see the strain to stay focused in her expression. 

In that time he had to keep reminding himself not to pity her. Shepard was an extraordinary woman who had achieved far more in her short lifetime than most people could in two. She didn’t need his pity and would laugh him to pieces if he ever had the gall to offer it. He had to approach the subject of her childhood from a place of respect. 

“Something on your mind?” she asked suddenly. 

_Far too much_ , he thought, but to Shepard, he said, “Nothing, just thinking about the mission.” 

“And Kelly’s been calling _me_ dismissive….” 

“Do you really want us to start provoking each other into talking? Because I’ve got a lot of angst built up all ready to go.” 

This earned him a small smile. He joined her at the window, leaning back against the glass. 

“If you must know my every thought, I was thinking about the krogan. This tank doesn’t look like it could hold him if he suddenly decided he wanted freedom.” 

“Is having him aboard going to bother you?” Shepard asked him. “He’s probably not as friendly toward turians as Wrex was.” 

“You're planning to let him out?” 

Shepard shrugged. “Yeah, why not? We could use a krogan on our team. He's probably a hell of a lot more useful than Okeer would of have been.” 

“That is if he's willing to help us,” said Garrus. “Or if he even has the capacity to reason.” 

“You think Okeer would be so proud of a mindless animal?” 

“That's what worries me. If Okeer was proud of him, what is he capable of?” 

He looked up at the tank. The krogan seemed to be looking directly at him. This may have been due to the way krogans' eyes were situated on their heads. Garrus looked away regardless, holding back a shudder. 

“How do you think Jack’s doing?” Shepard asked quietly. 

“She’s, um, animated,” he replied with a chuckle. “Really seems to like being out of the ship. How have your talks with her been?” 

Shepard looked up at him, then down at her feet. "I hate this, but she reminds me of me _a lot_. When I was younger, I mean. Really impulsive, hard to talk to, purposefully abrasive." 

"Funny, younger you sounds a lot like older you. Imagine that..." 

She held up her middle finger at him, a gesture he knew was rude to humans. He returned an exaggerated smile. 

“I feel responsible,” she said. “I can’t really say why, but I feel responsible for what happened to her. I’ve been feeling responsible for a lot of things I probably shouldn’t lately.” 

“Like Rawlings?” Garrus offered. 

She nodded and looked back down at her boots. 

“I’m sorry, Shepard.” 

“You shouldn’t be,” she said. “This shouldn’t be a problem. But it is....” 

The shuttle arrived not long after. It took half an hour to exit Korlus' pollution engulfed atmosphere and re-dock on the Normandy. Shepard instructed the crew in the loading bay to keep the tank someplace safe while she discussed what to do with it with Miranda. As they approached the elevator, Jack lifted the weapons Jacob had issued her from their holsters and offered them to Shepard. 

“I'm sure the Cerberus princess won't want me hanging on to these.” 

“You can stick them in one of the spare lockers upstairs. Later, though, I doubt Jacob will miss them.” 

Jack looked from the guns to Shepard and back again, her expression suspicious. 

“Are you fucking joking? You're gonna let a convict walk around with a shotgun on your ship?” 

“If you're so dumb that you're worried you'll shoot yourself in the tits, hand them over.” Shepard put out her hand expectantly. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Jack scoffed. Despite her tone, she replaced her guns in the holsters sewn into the straps across her back. 

Shepard took off all of her armor, again wearing only a tank top and shorts, and stored them in the locker in the back of the loading bay. Jack made a blunt comment about the scar that started at the base of her neck. The commander deflected it with a joke, saying that she was actually a batarian, and Cerberus had shoved her into a Shepard skin suit when they couldn’t bring the real one back to life. 

When the three of them got into the elevator and reached the engineering level, Jack gave her a dangerously innocent look and muttered, “Thanks for bringing me with.” 

Shepard nodded expressionlessly and called after her, "If you shoot a hole in my ship, I'm shoving you through it." When the door closed, she looked up at Garrus with a huge grin. “Progress!” 

“Why don't you just adopt her already?” Garrus teased. 

Shepard shoved him into the wall of the lift. He pushed her right back. This quickly developed into a playful, upright wrestling match. She was quick but Garrus' height gave him a significant advantage in the confined space. The doors opened on to the CIC just as he managed to trap her in a headlock. Kelly Chambers smirked at them but turned back to her console, choosing not to comment. 

“Commander,” called Joker on the loudspeaker. 

“What's up?” Shepard asked nonchalantly from her position under Garrus' arm. 

“You're expected in the war room. Miranda and Jacob are having a....heated discussion.” 

“Got it, thanks.” Shepard wiggled free of Garrus' hold, undoing her bun in the process. She pulled the elastic band from her hair and let the curls fall around her shoulders. 

Garrus recalled the image of the young girl in the article Miranda had shown him. Her hair had fallen much the same way, but was far curlier. He wondered, if that truly had been Shepard as a child, if her hair had become more manageable as she grew older or if she did something to it change the texture. 

She walked into the armory, skillfully rolling her hair back on to the top of her head as she went, Garrus close behind her. They both restocked their weapons into their lockers. Shepard dawned a Cerberus shirt and pants and slipped on a pair of leather boots. 

“This won't take long. Wanna have dinner with me after this?” she asked him. 

“Yea. I'll be in here when you're done. My rifle needs some attention.” 

Garrus waited at an artillery table while Shepard attempted to defuse the contention between Jacob and Miranda. He could hear several emphasized “nots” coming from Miranda through the closed door and several inches of metal separating the rooms. Pleased he wasn’t involved, he began disassembling his gun for cleaning. 

Half an hour later, Shepard followed Jacob back into the armory. Miranda had gone through Mordin's lab to go back to her office. 

“Do you mind if dinner's kinda late?” she asked him. She had a devilish grin growing on her lips. “I had the krogan transported to the port cargo bay. I'm gonna go crack the tank open.” 

“ _Now_?” asked Garrus incredulously. “You don't think its too soon?” 

“No better time than the present. The sooner we let him out, the sooner he can help us, right?” 

Garrus gave her a skeptical look. “You just want to talk to him.” 

“That too,” she said, tossing up her hand, indicating she couldn't help her curiosity. 

“Take a gun at least.” He took a standard issue pistol from the rack over the table he was working on. Before she could stop him, he tucked it into her waistband and patted it in place. 

Jacob snorted. “Yeah, that's fantastic gun safety,” he muttered. 

“Alright, I'll be back.” Shepard hurried out of the door to the CIC. 

Jacob turned to Garrus once she was gone. “You encourage her.” 

“I do,” Garrus confessed. “She's ridiculous, but not without a purpose.” 

Jacob nodded slowly. “I can see that. Doing things conventionally doesn’t get the job done all the time.” 

“I don’t think your colleague sees that as positively as you do.” 

“Who, Miranda?” Jacob rolled his eyes. “She just doesn't know how to work that in her favor, which bothers her. She's too used to being perfect so when a new kind of 'perfect' pops up, she has to figure out how to harness it. The Lazarus Project was great for her for just that reason.” 

“Lazarus Project. That's what brought Shepard back?” 

“Can you imagine having that big of an impact? With the Illusive Man funding all this, Shepard might not have to worry about mortality.” 

Garrus heard a hint of disdain in the lieutenant's tone. “You don't think it was a good idea to bring her back?” 

“I can't say doing it hasn't made the galaxy a little safer, but you have to wonder what it's doing to her head, ya know? Does she talk about it at all?” 

“Not really. Not seriously, anyway.” 

“That's what I thought. I wouldn't want to either. Anyway....” Jacob headed over to the lockers and began taking stock of the weaponry. Garrus informed him Shepard had let Jack hang on to her shotgun and pistol. The lieutenant groaned at this but let it slide for the time being. “Just don't tell Miranda. I won't hear the end of it.” 

They worked silently in the room together until Shepard returned half an hour later. Her boots and the lower half of her pants were dripping wet. There were a few spots on her shirt that were damp as well. Her hair was a little disheveled, the bun sticking out at an odd angle. Regardless of all of this, she walked into the armory with a big smile on her face. 

“He's great! His name is Grunt,” she chirped. 

“Grunt?” Jacob and Garrus asked as one. 

“Yeah, he picked it himself.” She dropped the pistol on to Garrus' work table with a loud clang. “I didn't even need this.” 

“It--It wasn’t loaded….” said Garrus, distracted by her appearance. 

“Oh. Well, ya know, doesn’t really matter now.” 

She had come back from releasing the krogan looking rougher than she had after their tussle in the elevator. The scars on her cheeks were glowing, but their light was weaker than he had seen previously. Just under her chin he saw that the skin had been rubbed raw. 

“What happened?” he asked her as he went to touch the red spot. 

She pulled away from him, her shoulders raising to protect her neck. “Don't, I'm ticklish. Nothing happened, really. He was just a little...overwhelmed by the outside world. I mean, how would you react to being born fully grown after being force fed your species' complete history?” 

“Turian birth is traumatizing enough as it is. I wouldn't choke you, though.” He raised his hand to her neck once more, but she knocked it away. “Ticklish? What is ticklish?” 

She and Jacob both gave him quizzical looks. 

“You don't know what ticklish is?” 

“My translator is trying to make me feel a sensation I don't have the ability to...” 

“I don't know how to explain it.” Shepard turned to Jacob for support but he just shrugged. “Its the way our bodies react to touch sometimes. Our nerves catch heat and pain, but when we get tickled it feels....” 

“Funny,” Jacob offered. 

“Yeah. The sensation makes us laugh. But it's not actually funny. It just happens.” 

Garrus arched his brow plates. The longer he spent time with humans, the more he found their physiology completely ill developed. 

“I know, it must sound weird. I wish I could demonstrate. If you weren't so tall...and wearing all that damned armor,” Shepard whined. 

“What about Jacob?” Garrus said, gesturing to the lieutenant. 

Jacob immediately stopped what he was doing and took a couple steps backward. “Uh, no. That's definitely not happening.” 

“Is it that unpleasant?” 

“It can be,” said Shepard. “If you're not expecting it. It can also be enjoyable, in certain situations....” 

“And that's my cue.” Jacob set down his work and moved to the door. “I'm going to get dinner. We should coordinate about our next heading soon, Commander.” 

Shepard nodded to him and then turned to Garrus when he left. “Ready to visit your old job?” 

“We're going back to the Citadel,” said Garrus with a deep sigh. 

“After a couple stops, yeah. How long has it been since you were there?” 

He tried to think back. “I don't know exactly when. It wasn't a smooth transition.” 

Shepard looked at him intently. She wanted him to go on, but knew pressing him would make him pull back. He wasn't completely ready to disclose everything, though he didn't leave her empty handed. 

“When we started getting reports about you and the Normandy, I stuck around to help with what I could. There wasn't much to do, though. The politicians got their hands into the case pretty quickly. Any useful intel was put under lock and key right away. Finally, the frustration just got to be too much.” 

“So you just left?” Shepard asked. 

“I asked for some time off to...grieve.” He saw the knowing grin growing on her lips and added quickly, “It was a useful excuse to get away. They were happy to give it to me. I was being too much of a squeaky wheel, I guess. I spent some time on Palaven, but then I just took a shuttle to the Terminus Systems one day and never looked back.” 

Shepard pursed her lips and nodded, accepting that this was as much as she was going to get for the time being. “Did you want to get some food then?” 

“Sure. You're not going to change, though?” He gestured to her pants. “You're covered in afterbirth.” 

“Probably should, it kinda smells. I’ll meet you down there. If you see Joker, ask him about being tickled. It’s probably way more traumatizing for him.”


	9. Chapter 9

Alex Shepard spoke her mind. If she felt someone was being unjust, or someone’s opinion lacked grounded facts, she was quick to tell them how idiotic she found them. She participated in subterfuge only when pressed and only when she felt she could play the part; anything else would just be a waste of time.

So when Kaidan Alenko, former lieutenant on the Normandy SR1, dressed her down for joining the enemy, for fighting alongside the demons they’d protected the galaxy from, Shepard’s silence was palpable.

Shepard had tried to make Kaidan see reason, tried to explain the circumstances of her resurrection and cooperation with Cerberus. This had only angered him further. More than anger. Kaidan was betrayed. Shepard had broken Kaidan’s heart a dozen times in the time it took him to cross the courtyard. The lieutenant’s – now staff commander’s – words had even struck Garrus. Dazed shock colored is tone when he saw Garrus coming to flank Shepard. Rumors Kaidan had dismissed were confirmed with one look at the Cerberus emblem on Miranda’s armor.

These rumors had bounced from the Terminus systems to Citadel space and back again from the relatively short time Shepard had spent on Omega. The mysterious abductions of human colonists hadn’t escaped the Alliance’s notice either; they’d sent Kaidan to Horizon to investigate the possibility Cerberus had been responsible for them.

Thankfully, it was obvious who the real culprits were. The crew of the Normandy caught the Collector’s off guard and they left evidence of their wrongdoing. With the Horizon comm transmitters repaired, this information could be spread so that other colonies could prepare.

Still, the revelation of Shepard’s resurrection and her apparent allegiance to Cerberus was enough to burn the bridge between two loyal Alliance soldiers that had once called each other dear friends. Kaidan’s disdain was clear.

Miranda had walked off to record a mission debrief and presumably get away from the awkward situation. Kaidan had gone to inspect the paralyzed citizens of Horizon that the Collectors hadn’t gotten away with. Garrus stayed with Shepard in the Starport, piling up Collector and husk corpses and doing what repairs they could on the structures that were damaged during the shootout.

Garrus stayed despite having better things to do with his time. He could have been helping Miranda collect testimony from the recovering colonists or prepping firing solutions on the Javelin that could punch through the hard outer shell of the Collector ship they’d just chased off. Instead he waited patiently. He paused his work whenever Shepard took a breath as if about to say something. She’d rethink it, then go back to soldering.

Half an hour later, Alex finally turned to face him. There was blood leaking out of her clearly broken nose. Her suit was caked with dirt and Collector blood and whatever ran through the tubes snaking through husk torsos. He was sure he looked no better. His injured mandible ached, not from a recent hit, but from the stress of the day. It had been a grueling fight.

“He’s not wrong, Shepard,” Garrus said quietly, answering the question she hadn’t uttered, but knew she was asking. “Nothing he said was untrue. Not to him.”

“I know. If our positions were switched, I’d have said the same thing.” She sat down heavily on the steps leading to one of the prefabs and stretched her legs out far in front of her. “Hell, I’d have said much worse.”

“Kaidan isn’t wrong, but that doesn’t make what you’re doing any less important, Shepard. He can’t know how desperate things are, not like you. No one can.”

“That doesn’t justify anything. Cerberus spun me back up, but I made the choice to stay.”

“What other choice could you —”

“The choice was made. To everyone else looking in, that’s all that matters.”

Shepard looked up at him quizzically, looking for a rebuttal. He couldn’t give one. She sighed heavily and let her chin fall forward to her chest.

“When I heard he’d be here, I thought about asking him to join us. Glad I didn’t get the chance to hear that lecture…”

“Kaidan would have considered it. You have a way of making people rethink their morals.”

She thought for a moment, then looked up at him. “Is that why you’re here?”

Garrus almost gave a sarcastic answer. It was too easy to slip into flippancy with her, but the situation called for at least as much sincerity as Kaidan had expressed. He thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you remember finding Dr. Saleon, the mad scientist who was harvesting organs to grow them inside other people? I was so ready to just kill him there, end all the suffering he’d caused with as little thought as he’d given his victims.”

Shepard nodded, though her expression didn’t read understanding so he went on.

“Your reasons for wanting to take him alive made sense, but those reasons didn’t supersede my feelings towards him. It didn’t end up mattering in the end, we had to kill him anyway, and I couldn’t figure out what all that effort had been for. I thought you were wasting the opportunities being a Spectre gave you.”

“Doesn’t sound like I convinced you….” she injected, looking skeptical.

He held up his hand. “I’m getting there. You were up one night, really late, in the CIC, maybe a week later. You were writing out letters of condolence to all the families Saleon had hurt. Every single one of them was getting something personal from you apologizing that they wouldn’t be able to seek true justice. You asked me how to reach a family on the Citadel who didn’t have a permanent address. You’d thought I would know since I’d been tracking this man for years and encountering his victims on a regular basis when I was at C-Sec. But I didn’t know. I couldn’t have because it never occurred to me to look beyond the man to the turmoil he was leaving in his wake.”

“I remember that. Anderson helped me look through the shelter databases.” She shrugged. “I found them in the end, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“That,” Garrus said quickly, pointing to her shoulder. “You did that and just went about your work, as if you couldn’t expect more than that from me.”

Shepard frowned and shook her head. “I didn’t mean it to be dismissive.”

“I know, and that was worse. I realized I wanted you to expect more of me. I was an impulsive, vindictive, bloodthirsty idiot when I met you. I still have some of those qualities, but I don’t like to think about who I’d have turned into if your hadn’t been there to ground me. And not just that. You helped me recognize when I couldn’t manage it on my own, when I needed another voice to help me see reason. It wasn’t just in that situation; you’d been doing it over and over and over, proving to me that my methods weren’t viable long term options. I took it with me even after we fought, after you died.”

Shepard’s eyebrows had arched up as he spoke, surprised at where the topic had lead. This was the first time either of them had mentioned their row before he’d left the SR1. Garrus read relief in her expression, his words confirming a hope she’d had. That all she’d taught him, all that they had learned together, hadn’t been cast aside when they parted.

She smiled sheepishly. “Kaidan knocked me down a peg and now you’re…” She waved her hand wildly at him. “…doing _this_. You’re gonna give me a big head, Vakarian.”

“It’s not without warrant, Shepard,” Garrus pressed. “I wouldn’t have survived Omega without you. You’ve helped far more than you can possibly know. When I told you I’d do anything you asked, I meant it.”

“See I remember that part slightly differently,” she said, her smile becoming devilish. “I remember you saying you were completely committed to me, and —“ She sat up straighter and put on what he assumed was an impression of his voice. “‘If there’s anything you want me to do, anything at all, just tell me and I’ll do it.’”

His neck grew hot as she chuckled. He too remembered the exchange going about the way she described. But despite his embarrassment, he pushed on.

“I meant it, Shepard. I still do. _That’s_ why I’m here.”

Her mischievous smile faltered at his genuine tone. Emotion welled up in her cheeks, exacerbating the glow of the tech under her skin. After a beat, she stood, then easily closed the distance between them and threw her arms around him.

Their armor clanged loudly when she collided, echoing against the walls of the prefabs around them. Such gestures weren’t as intimate in heavy gear, but Shepard compensated by using her biotics to strengthen the hold.

Garrus drew his arms around her shoulders in kind. She smelled terrible; the combined mess of body fluids and ozone wafted up from between them, but he dismissed his discomfort to savor the moment. The longing for the affection of another had settled somewhere deep in his brain. It had fallen back for structure and leadership to take precedent, but came bursting forward as Shepard pulled him closer.

“Thank you, Garrus” she whispered into his breastplate. She stiffened slightly, stifling a sob.

“No problem, Shepard.”

They stood motionless for a while, but were interrupted by Miranda clearing her throat from the garage behind them. Garrus turned to see that there was a little color blooming on the operative’s face. He thanked the Spirits for not having such obvious indicators of emotion.

“We can call for a transport if you’re all done here,” Miranda called to them.

“Nope!” Shepard chirped. She dislodged herself from Garrus’ hold then charged at Miranda. Before he could blink, Shepard had lifted Miranda off the ground in her arms. “It’s hug time. Garrus, get in on this!”

“I’m okay over here, Commander.” The look on Miranda’s face told him he’d lose the ability to eat if he so much as stepped closer to them.

It was a difficult choice to finish up the cleaning while Shepard went on teasing Miranda. His heart ached for her touch again, even if through several layers of protective metal. He remembered what it meant to be by her side, though. Alex Shepard was much more than what she meant to him. He couldn’t confine her to the gentleness she showed him. What moments he had with her needed to be treasured as they happened. Longing for more complicated it.


End file.
